


Dragon Age: Absolution

by omilly



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:32:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omilly/pseuds/omilly
Summary: Ashlyn Trevelyan has been running from her past and family for years. But suddenly she finds herself in the middle of the fight of her life. Will dragons, templars and charming commanders prove to be too much for her? (Disclaimer: Characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware & EA.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 1**

The hard cobblestone did not greet the prisoner's knees kindly. They landed with a grunt, as the rest of their body followed. Flushed cheeks pressed against the cold ground as they attempted to roll back up. The chains and bar around their thin wrists made it more difficult, but eventually, they were kneeling.

A green hood was hiding the face of the prisoner, their head hanging low as they stared at their bound hands on their lap. They counted four guards pacing the room, their shields tapping lightly against their back as they marched.

Frustration overcame the prisoner as they sat in the unknown. Shaking the green hood free of their head, a woman's face was revealed. One of the guards turned, taking her in. A long, brown ponytail was tossed over her shoulder, soft freckles covered her olive skin. Mauve lips were pursed into a line, thick eyebrows and nose furrowed - contorting the scars that laid upon them. She was beautiful but intimidating. Grey eyes cut through the guard, sending a shiver down his spine. It was a look that could kill.

A scowl spread across her face when she noticed the guard staring. "What?!" She spat bitterly.

"Oi. Shut up prisoner." The other guard spoke up, flashing a glare.

"Make me." She snarled her upper lip curling.

The guard stomped over to where she was kneeling, looming over her. "You're gonna regret that bitch."

Anger flared in her, without thinking she spat at his face. Before she could blink, an armored hand struck her. A pink gash appeared high along her cheekbone. A grunt escaped her lips before she moved her chin up, her nostrils flared.

"Leave her." The other guard spoke up. "Just go back to your post. The Seeker should be here any moment." The man returned to his post next to the door, looking at his feet awkwardly. The other guards shook their heads, frustrated with their companion.

The woman let out a ragged breath as she felt a warm sensation develop in her left hand. She bit the inside of her cheek as the warmth turned into searing pain. Suddenly, a green light erupted from her hand. Her grey eyes widened with surprise, her mouth hanging open.

The guards changed formation at the appearance of the green light. They circled the prisoner, their swords drawn and pointed right at her. Flipping her hand over, the woman watched as the light erupted out her hand again. She let out a noise — what is this thing?

Abruptly, the cell door was kicked open and the silhouette of a woman walked in. Her steps were heavy with determination. A hooded figure slinked out from behind her, startling the prisoner. The guards sheathed their swords, as the two figures approached her.

The first woman had black pixie hair and was bearing the crest of the Seekers. She circled behind her, leaning down to speak into her ear. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." A twang of pain inflicted in her voice. "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

The prisoner furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "You think I'm responsible?"

Reaching down, she gripped the prisoners' bound hand. It lit up green. "Explain this."

Stumbling over her words, the prisoner was confounded. "I, I - uh, can't."

"What do you mean you can't?!" The seeker's hand moved to the top of her sword.

"I don't know what that is! Or how it got there!" Fear crept into the prisoner's voice.

"You're lying." The seeker's hand slammed into the prisoner's chest.

The purple hooded woman, who had been standing in the shadows, grabbed onto her and pulled her off. "We need her, Cassandra!"

Noticing her new sudden defense, the prisoner spoke with more confidence."Whatever you think I did, I'm innocent!"

The purple hooded woman's voice was much softer. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

The change in tone calmed the prisoner. Blinking a few times, she tried to think. "I remember running. Things were chasing me and then..." The memory went fuzzy. "A woman?"

"A woman?" Her voice turned hopeful.

The prisoner nodded. "She reached out to me but then..." The memory escaped her again.

"Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift." Cassandra's voice was not harsh anymore. The woman exchanged looks, before nodding. Moving over, she unlocked the bar - but not the handcuffs.

Still, the prisoner moved her hands, rotating her wrists. "What did happen?"

With a heavy sigh, Cassandra helped the prisoner to her feet. "It — will be easier to show you."

The guards opened the doors, letting a rush of cold air in. Burying her face in her scarf, the prisoner looked at the snowy mountaintops and dark grey sky. A bright green tear in the sky illuminated the ominous clouds and swirling snow. Her eyes widened and mouth fell open.

"We call it the 'breach'. It's a massive rift into the worlds of demons that grows larger with each passing hour." Cassandra's words were heavy. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"An explosion can do that?"

Her face turned grim. "This one did. Unless we act the breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Suddenly the rift erupted, a magnetic force pulled her hand up towards the sky. With a scream, the woman fell to the snow unable to control the mark.

"Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads... And it's killing you."

With a gulp, the prisoner looked up to Cassandra's outreached hand before taking it.

Eyeing the mark Cassandra continued, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

Breathing deeply, the woman nodded her head. "I understand."

"Then?"

The snow swirled around the pair. "I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes." She placed her bound hands into Cassandra's, who lifted her up. With a nod the two women began crossing the bridge, moving towards the gates.

* * *

The hilt of the dagger met the back of the pride demon, it's final cries echoing through the mountains. Sweat and blood dripped off of the woman's face, as she ripped the blade out. It fell heavy to her side, before slipping from her grasp.

Before she could catch her breath, Cassandra screamed at her. "Now! Seal the rift!" She raised her hand into the air like the elven apostate had shown her before. The magnetic force began pulling the rift towards her. "Do it!" Cassandra screamed again.

The crowd surrounding her began to cower away — unsure of what was going to happen. A scream ripped through the air haunting them. With a huge boom, the tear was swallowed whole, the sky suddenly empty of the green light.

A thud and scatter on the rocks below caused Cassandra to look down. "Oh no." She hurried over to the unconscious body laying on the ground, the green light of the mark flickering out. "We need to get her back to Haven." She said, her lips pursed in concern.

* * *

Gloved knuckles knocked on the table, the sound echoing through the wood. A man was hunched over it, blankly staring at the map that laid upon the table. With a sigh he took one of the markers into his hand, squeezing it in his palm. It had been hours since Leliana and Cassandra had left. The explosion from the Conclave had sent everyone in Haven into a panic. The Commander had opted to stay behind, to protect the people of Haven in case of another tear. Instead of sending out the best of his soldiers to follow Cassandra and Leliana. He did not regret his decision, but staying here in the dark was killing him. Their whereabouts, the culprit, the potential outcome were all unknown to him.

He placed the marker back down onto the map with a slam, just as the large ornate doors to the war room were opened. A slim, dark-haired woman stood behind them, a gentle smile on her face. "Am I interrupting anything Commander?" Her Antivan accent was thick.

A polite smile was forced upon his face, "No, Josephine. Come in."

Josephine watched as he rubbed his jaw roughly, grabbing his chin in thought. "Getting tired of waiting too?"

"I would feel better if I had the slightest idea of what happened."

Letting out a sigh, she pulled out a chair to sit in. "Me too. But Cassandra and Leliana know what they are doing, though. You sent out your best squad."

"It's not them I'm concerned about." He rubbed his temples. His ears perked up when he heard the Chantry doors open. Then the faint voices of the sisters and the scuffle of feet. Throwing open the doors, he raced into the other room.

"Cullen!" Cassandra ran towards him, her hand grabbing onto his forearm.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?" Cullen's eyes panicked. He looked over her shoulder, watching a group of soldiers carrying a stretcher. "Who is that?"

"The prisoner — well not really, but... yes. The 'prisoner'." She stumbled over her words, obviously riddled with multiple thoughts.

"The prisoner? They caused the explosion?"

"There is more to it than that!" Leliana appeared, joining the conversation. "There is much to tell you. But for now, we need to get her a healer."

"Her?" Cullen was taken aback. "It was a woman?"

Cassandra nodded. "We will explain it all in a moment. Solas! Come with us." The two women ran down the stairs to the basement, waving the elven mage to join them. Cullen watched as the men carrying the stretcher maneuvered their way down the stairs. What in the heavens is going on?

"So... the Divine is dead." The words were barely audible on Josephine's lips. She was staring at the stone floor, still in shock.

"All of those people." Cullen shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. His heart had started climbing up his throat as he listened to Cassandra's recall of the events.

"That woman, though... She cannot be at fault. She would not have closed the tears if she caused the explosion intentionally. There's more to this than just her." Josephine stood up, using her hands as she spoke.

"I agree. The Herald has been falsely accused." Leliana spoke for the first time in the conversation.

Cullen remained seated, staring at his folded hands on the table. "Does this woman have a name? Other than the prisoner?

"Ashlyn Trevelyan," Cassandra said, her arms crossed.

"Trevelyan? They are nobles from the Free Marches." Josephine's eyes lit up.

"She did not use a title when introducing herself. But we must find out more about her." She waited before acknowledging the other two, "You know what to do girls."

Leliana and Josephine slipped away, both whispering to each other in a new found glee at their task.

"I'm going to check on Adan and Solas in the cells." Cassandra breathed, her exhaustion obvious.

"I can go, if you wish to rest." Cullen tried his best to hide his curiosity.

She blinked heavily, her lashes hitting her cheeks. "I think rest would be... most beneficial at the moment. I have lots to consider." She squeezed his forearm in silent thanks before turning to leave for her cabin.

Adjusting his cloak, the Commander began his descent to the basement, the bottoms of the fur just barely trailing over the stone floor. The torches flickered as he moved past them, following the long hallway until he reached the prison. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly light room.

All of the torches were lit, and candles were set up on every surface but still, the room was dingy and dark. It was a prison after all - so it was to be expected. His eyes moved to the cell at the back of the room, where an elf and a human stood, hovering over something.

"Ahem." Neither of them moved. "Um, it's Commander Cullen. I've come to check on the prisoner — Ashlyn?"

Solas' ears perked, and he turned around to look through the bars. "Ah, Commander Cullen. Come take a seat." The men moved awkwardly about in the small cell until they were all finally arranged in their new spots. Solas sat at the end of the cot, jotting down notes on the margins of a book. The healer Adan had moved out of the cell, rummaging through his satchel. While the Commander sat directly next to the woman.

Cullen looked at her for the first time. She was still unconscious, not responding to any of the treatments as of yet. But she looked very serene in her slumber. The flickering wicks of the candles cast shadows of her long lashes down her high cheekbones. Freckles dusted her nose that had a thick scar running down the middle of it. Full, dark lips were just slightly parted, the smallest noise coming from them. He noticed bruising developing under her eye and a slash running up to her temple. Brown hair was fanned out beneath her head, sticking to her neck — still covered in blood, dirt and sweat. So you are Ashlyn. You don't look like a criminal to me.

He looked down at her left hand that was hanging off the edge of the cot. Her fingers were like stone, frozen in a bent shape and dark blue veins popped out of her wrist. Her hand twitched slightly, cause Cullen to jump.

"It's been doing that. The mark reacting, unfortunately - not her." Solas spoke, before returning to his writing.

Cullen's eyes wandered, looking at the cell. "She shouldn't be in here. She is no prisoner." He stood up, his chair scraping on the floor. "She proved her innocence to us by closing the breach."

The elf placed his quill as a mark and closed the book on his lap. He then looked up at the Commander, waiting.

"The rest of her healing will continue in my cabin. She deserves a proper space, and you two need more to work with than this."

The pair couldn't argue with that. After some huffing and clunky movements, Adan and Cullen had either end of the stretcher - while Solas carried what medicine and supplies he could. The group clumsily moved Ashlyn up the stairs and out of the Chantry. Not without some bystanders watching mouths agape. At first, Cullen thought it was because of the precarious situation they were watching. But then he realized it was because of her.

Inside his cabin, the men softly picked up Ashlyn and laid her on the bed, on top of the sheets. "Will this do?" Cullen asked, picking and pulling at the sheets nervously.

Adan stretched his arms out, enjoying their new found space. "Oh yes. This will work."

"Where will you go though Commander?" Solas asked, his mouth almost turning into a frown.

"I'm sure there's a spare tent around." Cullen tried to hide his grimace. "It's no problem — we need her to get better. We have questions for her." Looking around, he noticed a few things that he should take with him. He grabbed the leather sack hanging off of his desk chair, carelessly shoving in clothes. "Right, well I'll leave you to it." Turning on his heels, Cullen went to leave when he noticed his journal on the table. He tucked it under his arm, before nodding and heading back out into the snow.

An odd sensation was running through him. Homelessness? Cullen laughed silently at his own thought. It shouldn't prove to be a problem finding somewhere for him to sleep. Her? He gulped — she did have a strange presence, even when unconscious. Perhaps it was merely the mystery surrounding her. Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he began to trudge back through the snow to the chantry.

Once inside he shook his hair of the white flakes, before running his fingers through it. Before he had even moved one more foot, a blur ran towards him blocking his path. Hands were flying in every direction as a panicked Antivan voice shouted, "She's gone! The Herald is gone! I went to check on the healers and.. and.."

A chuckle escaped Cullen's pink lips - unable to hold back his laughter as he watched Josephine freak out. "Relax. I put her up in my cabin to allow more space for the healers to work. That cell was... not very hospitable."

Josephine threw her hand up in the air as if to hit him. "Maker's breath, why didn't you tell me that? I thought Cassandra was going to have a conniption."

"Speaking of which we need to gather the council. Ashlyn Trevelyan and this situation need to be discussed further." His tone was very serious.

"Of course. I'll go find them." Josephine's shiny black hair swayed as she walked away from the Commander, her shoulders set back and chin high.

* * *

"Ashlyn Trevelyan is 30 years old — the youngest of Bann Trevelyan's children, as well as his only daughter." Josephine read of the scroll in front of her, slender fingers following her loopy handwriting as she spoke. Usually, the council would be scratching at the wooden table or gazing out of the window as they listened to Josephine drone on about another noble. But today everyone's ears were perked as they waited to learn more about their new guest.

"She was the first and only Trevelyan to openly deny Templar recruitment and any Chantry involvement. Her older brothers, Reed and Wesley, were both recruited by the Templars at a young age, serving in Kirkwall..." Her voice trailed off as she read ahead. "After both were killed in the Kirkwall Chantry explosion in 9:37," Her eyes flickered over to Cullen, waiting for his reaction. He had his eyes fixed on the grain of the table, looking at the complex knots as he listened. "It was rumored that Ashlyn broke off her engagement before running away from her family estate to never return. That's all the information I could verify. Everything else was tavern gossip."

"Tavern gossip about her being a mercenary." Leliana interrupted, glee playing on her lips.

"That explains her combat skills," Cassandra muttered. She had been very focused on her thoughts while Josephine spoke. Her thin brows had been furrowed together, her lips pressed into a hard line. "I will admit that I was mistaken when accusing this woman of killing the Divine. But still, she is a mystery to us."

"A mystery indeed." Cullen finally spoke, his voice hoarse.

"We must explain this to the people. Put their minds at rest." Leliana spoke, pushing her hood up from out of her eyes. "I've heard their whispers - they do not know if they should fear or regard this woman. They must know she is their savior."

"I agree," Josephine said with a stern nod. Clutching her clipboard, she asked if she could prepare a speech.

"Alright," Cassandra said warily. "Make it simple — we've had enough complication for one day."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 2**

"Moving out?" Leliana asked, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. A slender, ivory finger pointed to the scattered books, papers and leather sack sitting on the wood table.

A nervous laugh escaped him. "More like moving in."

"Right, you moved Lady Trevelyan into your cabin." Josephine joined the conversation, eyeing him.

"She deserved more than a prison cell — she has helped us. That's enough to prove her innocence."

The two women were stunned by his answer. Commander Cullen had always proven himself to be a man of order and rules — strictly following the limitations and restrictions presented to him. This judgment was almost completely out of character.

"I agree." Leliana nodded firmly. "That was very generous Commander. But where will you stay?"

With a huff, Cullen started gathering his belongings onto the corner of the wood table. "I'll find an extra tent — pitch it with my soldiers."

"Actually..." Josephine's voice trailed off. "We've run out of our field tents. I have sent out a requisition for more but it has yet to be completed."

"Oh." Cullen pursed his lips together as he realized he was now completely bedless.

"There's plenty of space in the Council's room. We'll just move some things around — it will be fine." Josephine did not even wait for him to reply before she ran into the main hall, waving at a couple passing servants.

"That's really not necessary!" He stumbled over his words and feet as he chased after her. Sharing a room with his fellow female companions was not something Cullen was so eager to do. "There's room out on the field—" The words stopped coming out of his mouth when he walked into the bedroom.

A bed and night table had been moved into the corner, a screen set beside them for privacy. Two young women were stretching fresh sheets over the mattress and fluffing pillows. While on the other side, two men were carrying over the furniture and ornaments for Josephine and Leliana.

"See? No problem at all." She smirked, flicking her black hair out of her eyes before continuing to inform the man that the painting over her bed was slightly crooked.

His eyes widened with shock — _how did she do this so fast?_ With a polite smile to the women who finished making his bed, Cullen sat at the foot of it — the mattress sinking under his weight.

The room smelled of lilies and berries, it was lit with warm candles and had pillows of fine silks and colours. It was no place for a Commander — at least not for this Commander. Cullen let out a sigh, before falling back onto the mattress. He placed his folded hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

It had been many years since he had shared a room with a woman. The last would have been his sister when they were children. He had hated it as much then as he did now. He had always liked his moments alone and usually, his bed was one of them. But his sister was always determined to keep him up until the wee hours of the morning or bother him with her lotions and perfumes. He believed that Josephine and Leliana would be no different.

"Ooo Josie look," Leliana grabbed onto a leather journal waving it in the air. Cullen let out disgruntled noise as he sat up to see what it was. "The Commander keeps a journal."

"That is private." He snapped, snatching the book out of Leliana's pale fingers.

The two women giggled and whispered as he tucked it under his armpit, before turning on his heels and leaving. "Andraste preserve me." He grunted as he marched back into the war room.

Crisp white sheets laid on top of Cullen's bare chest. His forehead was covered in a sticky, cold sweat. His eyes fluttering as he woke from his dream. Sitting up, he wiped his brow attempting to shake his mind of the awful images that were playing in his mind.

The room around him was dimly lit by a flickering candle stump. His eyes flickered to the other two beds in the room. Josephine's back was to Cullen, her ivory, silk sheets hugging the curves of her torso and legs. Leliana's bed was, unsurprisingly, empty. Sliding the sheets off of him, he swung his legs off the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor.

Cullen yanked on his worn leather boots, cuffing his trousers around the tops. He had been too uncomfortable to take them off last night — still not accustomed to sharing a bedroom with two women. After pulling on his top and fur cloak, Cullen tipped toed out of the room. The door shut behind him with a soft click, as the Commander found himself standing in the Chantry hallway.

Sunlight had just begun to trickle through the thinly framed windows, dust particles floating through the air lazily. Wrapping his cloak around his body tighter, Cullen left the chantry, embracing the chilly morning. Few people were up this early — the blacksmith was wandering out to his shop, a couple of hungover men being kicked out of the tavern.

Cullen's footsteps crunched in the snow as he walked towards the main gates, ready to wake up his soldiers and begin another day of training. But the sight of his old cabin made him stop in his tracks. There was no sign of movement in the cabin — no lights shining through the windows or even fresh tracks on the path that led to the house. A frown came across his face. _Will she ever wake up?_ The mystery of Ashlyn Trevelyan was getting to him.

He had found himself thinking about her as he laid in bed the night before, unable to fall asleep in his new foreign room. His mind was replaying the details of her face, the first time he saw her down in the prison cells. The Commander had to admit, he thought she was quite beautiful. But he had yet to see her eyes. What colour would they be?

Letting out a sigh, Cullen began to march through the snow again leaving the cabin behind him.

* * *

The softness of cotton and fur on skin. The kiss of a hearth on cheeks and neck. The sturdy strength of a bed. _Bed_? Ashlyn's eyes opened with a flash. Light poured into her eyes, causing her to blink. She looked around the room in fright, her hands clenching the fur blanket on top of her body.

Looking down at herself, she realized she was not in her own clothes. She was wearing a simple tunic and brown trousers. They hung off of her loosely. She frowned, thinking of who put them onto her.

It was a man's room. Or a woman's, with bizarrely large feet. Big leather boots sat under the desk that was piled high with maps, and books. Squinting, she read one of the titles: Tactical Training. It had many pages folded, dog-eared for later. Pelts lined the cabin walls, a cold breeze flickering in through the open window.

Ashlyn could not remember the last time she had laid in a bed. She had been spending the season pitching a tent every night. Furrowing her brows, she attempted to remember what tavern she could possibly be in, but none came to mind. Perhaps, she had drunk too much ale and gone home with some poor lad. It wouldn't be the first time, she grimaced.

Moving to sit up, a burning sensation flared up through her left hand. "Agh." She let out a grunt, as she fell back into the bed. Suddenly, a memory appeared in her head. Ashlyn pulled up the sleeves of her blouse, revealing her wrists. They were rubbed raw, a glaring pink from handcuffs. Moving her fingers to her forehead, she tenderly felt the small gash and bruising - remembering being struck there.

"What the -" She stopped at the sound of a creaking door. Her right hand automatically went to her thigh, reaching for the dagger that was usually tucked into a garter. But her fingers grasped at nothing. White knuckles loosened as she watched as a thin boy with dark, wispy hair enter the room.

"Oh!" The young boy dropped the wooden box, glass shattering on the floor. He looked at the mess, then back up to Ashlyn - his eyes wide. "I didn't know you were awake. I swear!"

She was more careful sitting up this time. Keeping her voice composed, she said "Don't worry about it. I only -"

He fell onto his wobbly knees, bowing his head at her. "I beg your forgiveness. And your blessing. I am but a humble servant." She could see his hands trembling, holding onto the red rug.

Ashlyn remained silent, watching the lad. It was all coming back to her now — the Conclave, a woman with short black hair, the tear in the sky, her hand...

"You are back in Haven, m'lady." The boy recognized her confusion. "They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand."

The mark on Ashyln's hand flared up green — as if it had heard it being mentioned.

"It's all anyone's talked about for three days." Three days? She couldn't believe she had been out that long. What did this mark do to her?

Pressing her full lips together, she looked up tenderly to the boy. "Then the danger is over."

"The breach is still in the sky... But that it was they say." He had begun ringing his hands, "I am certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've waken. She said at once."

"And where is she?" Ashlyn raised a dark brow. _Cassandra_ — that had been the woman she fought with.

He had already begun racing for the door,"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. At once she said!" The door slammed shut, leaving Ashlyn alone in the mysterious cabin again.

Her mind was racing. Eyeing the desk chair, she noticed her emerald scarf draped over the arm. She wrapped it around her, large pieces of her dark brown hair falling out of it. A sound of delight let out of her when she found her worn, black books tucked safely under the chair as well. She slipped them on effortlessly, the boots were molded to her feet perfectly.

_Alright, the chantry. Just find the chantry_. She had never felt so naked in her entire life. The only things she recognized as her own were her grungy old boots and the wool scarf she had, unforgivably, looted off of a corpse. Without the familiar tick of her dagger on her thigh or scrunch of her leather trousers - Ashlyn felt extremely vulnerable as she walked into this unknown Haven.

Biting her lip, she opened the wooden door and stepped out into the snow. Ashlyn's pupils dilated as the glaring sun bounced off of the snow into her eyes. Even though her eyes were now adjusted, it took her a moment to take in what she saw. Soldiers were just two steps out of the door, stationed there as guards. They turned around when they heard the door close, saluting her with a fist on their shoulders. Ashlyn furrowed her eyebrows. Weren't the same dressed guards just pointing their swords at her not too long ago?

She shuffled forward, looking down at her feet as she was careful not to slip down the snow-covered stairs. When she looked up again, she was in a runway of people. At least thirty people were on either side of her, awestruck looks on their faces as she walked between them. She heard whispers and murmurs as she slipped past, "That's her. The Herald of Andraste." As a mercenary, Ashlyn had found herself in several interesting predicaments — but this was by far the weirdest one yet. "They said that when she came out of the fade, Andraste herself was watching over her."

Ashlyn flashed her grey eyes at the man just as the woman left to him spoke up. "Hush. We shouldn't disturb her.

Without another look behind her, Ashlyn rushed up the snow-covered steps — the stoned walled Chantry now in view. She quickened her pace as she noticed more people standing in the cover of the brown tents. "That's her. She stopped the breach from getting any bigger."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a red-head dwarf fold her arms. "I heard she was supposed to close it entirely." Shrugging it off she spoke again. "Still, it's more than anyone else has done. Demons would have had us otherwise."

As she approached the large entrance, Ashlyn looked up the sky. It was still grey, pieces of blue peeking through. But the swirling green Breach still hung over like an ominous cloud. Pushing the heavy ornate doors open, the warmth from inside hugged her cold body. Rubbing her hands together, she looked around the grand hall, lined with flickering candles and a lush green rug. A single door on the North wall beaconed her forwards. But as she neared it voices from inside passed through the stone walls.

"Have you gone completely mad?!" It was a man's voice. Familiar to Ashlyn for some bizarre reason. "She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!"

"I do not believe she is guilty." That was Cassandra, her tone very firm.

"The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky, for all you know, she intended it this way." The man attempted to reason with her.

"I do not believe that." Cassandra's tone remained strong.

"That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry."

"My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours."

_Of course, it's the Chancellor — that sniveling twat,_ Ashlyn thought as she neared the door. She reached for the doorknob.

The door opened dramatically, giving Ashlyn quite the entrance. "Chain her!" Ashlyn had barely been two steps into the room before the Chancellor pointed his finger at her. "I want her prepared to travel to the capital for trial!"

"Disregard that." She glared at the Chancellor as the guards backed off. Clearly, they knew who was really in command here. "And leave us." The guards saluted her, before leaving the room with a march.

"You walk a dangerous line Seeker." He scowled.

Ashlyn gave the Chancellor a twisted smile, moving further into the room.

* * *

"Yes! Good. Now do that a thousand more times, and you'll have it perfected." The Commander boomed as he walked through the lines of soldiers. His second in command followed closely behind him, attempting to mimic the Commander's strict posture and composure.

"Here." Cullen stopped in front of a young man. Grabbing his thin shoulders, he readjusted the boy's stance making it wider. "Plant your feet. Shield up, like this." Cullen bent forward, raising an imaginary shield up across his chest.

The young man nodded fast. "Right, th-thank you, Commander."

Cullen returned the nod sternly, before continuing to walk through the rest of his soldiers. A figure in the distance caught his eye. It was marching up the white hill, heading west. Snow swirled around the character wrapped in a dark cloak. Squinting his eyes, Cullen saw the smallest flicker of brown hair before the figure vanished into the treeline.

Brown hair, that's all he saw. _Brown_ _hair_. "Excuse me." Cullen blurted, moving past the Captain.

"Commander, what about training!" They asked, eyes wide.

"You continue without me. I won't be long!" Cullen shouted back, his cloak wiping at his feet as he trudged back to the gates of Haven. Pushing the gates open, he slipped past them hurrying up the snow-covered stairs. Giving a quick wave to Varric, the Commander hustled towards the Chantry. By the time he had made it to the Council's chambers, he was huffing and puffing.

The doors to the room were already open as Cullen marched in. "Was anybody going to tell me that the Herald was awake?"

The three women sitting around the large, oak table stopped what they are doing and looked up at the irritated Commander. Josephine softly placed her quill down, "I assumed you knew when I came to inform you of our decision of establishing the Inquisition."

"As did I. I apologize, Commander, I forgot that nominal detail," Cassandra spoke, unfolding her arms from around her.

"Nominal detail? She is the Herald for Maker's sakes! I am a member of the Council am I not? The Commander of the Inquisition. Should I not be aware of her consciousness, if I need her?" Cullen was baffled at their behaviour.

Bewildered by his reaction, Leliana asked, "And what is it exactly you need the Herald for?"

"Um," Cullen paused. He had not really thought about that. Seeing her marching up the hill had sparked something in him and next, he knew he was standing in front of his peers complaining about it. That's it. "Well. I saw her, heading West — away from Haven."

"Away from Haven?" Josephine asked, her mouth forming a pout. Cullen nodded in response.

"I'm sure she is exploring. Or perhaps someone asked her to help them with something. She is with us — she will not abandon us. Ashlyn gave me her word." Cassandra attempted to comfort them.

"Right, well her word means nothing to me as I have never met her." He scowled. "Well, I am not going anywhere until she returns. The Herald is part of the Inquisition now, and I am due to speak with her."

"I agree, Commander. Perhaps you would like to go discuss your soldier's requisitions while we wait for Lady Trevelyan to return." Josephine offered, waving to the empty chair next to her.

With a sigh Cullen sat in the chair, using his elbow as a resting spot as he listened to Josephine's neatly organized — but never-ending lists.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 3**

_Fifteen._ Ashlyn counted, her quick fingers glided over the bundle of elfroot she had picked will searching for Adan’s notes. He was more than appreciative when she had handed them over, offering different types of potions. She had never been one to say no to gifts and had humbly accepted them. With a full belt and the familiar rub of the dagger in her garter, Ashlyn was beginning to feel more comfortable in Haven. 

It was a peculiar place, the villagers whispered when she walked by. There was very little game to hunt, few plants and herbs to gather. The large lake was completely frozen over. It was safe but boring. Ashlyn had watched the Inquisition’s army training in front of the lake for some time. It was a small force, but seemingly strong. Just the idea of commanding so many people made her feel sick. Ashlyn liked fighting with just her and her daggers. 

Once back inside the village, Ashlyn gave the notes to Adan and traded some of the resources she found for gold with the Requisition officer who looked incredibly relieved. The woman had gone off about how behind they were for some time before Ashlyn had slinked away. She had taken the time and spoken to the companions that had fought with her at the Breach — Varric and Solas. The dwarf was enjoyable, their conversation was slick and had a few chuckles. The elf, however, was hard to read. Ashlyn was unsure of what it was, but there was something unsettling about him. 

Eyeing the inn, Ashlyn licked her lips at the idea of drinking a nice, cold ale. But then remembered the bundle of elfroot hanging off of her belt. With a sigh, she marched into the chantry kicking the snow off of her boots onto the cobblestones near the entrance.

A sister was humming to herself, relighting a torch that had gone out. Ashlyn wandered towards her, “Excuse me, Sister?” 

“Huh? Oh!” The noise escaped the startled Sister. 

Ashlyn quickly apologized, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I — I gathered this elfroot. I figured that you would know who needs them the most — to heal any villagers, soldiers.” 

The Sister blinked, before smiling. “How generous. You are a thoughtful person.” 

“It’s no problem.” She blushed, raising a hand. 

“Herald?” The name caused Ashlyn to turn around. It was Cassandra, “Can I have a word?” 

Ashlyn smiled goodbye to the Sister, before beginning to follow Cassandra down the hallway toward the Council’s room. 

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked, looking towards the mark on her hand. 

Ashlyn folded her hand in, wiggling her fingers. “It’s stopped spreading... And it doesn’t hurt.” 

“We take our victories where we can.” Cassandra nodded. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed — provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand.” She witted dryly. 

“Hold on to that sense of humor.” Cassandra slyly responded.

Stopping at the door, Cassandra explained herself. “You will meet the Inquisition's council in here. We want to discuss the possible ways of procuring power for your mark. There are a few ideas — but we should tread carefully. The Chantry will be watching to see the Inquisition's first steps.” 

With a nod, Cassandra opened the door. A large map of Thedas had been rolled out across the oak table, silver and gold markers clumped in the middle waiting to be set into position. Ashlyn stopped at the middle of the table, moving her face closer to the map reading all of the different rivers and passages that twisted together across the mountain range near Haven. Untying her emerald scarf from her hair and neck, she placed it on the table before looking up. Everyone was staring at her, watching her study the map. Standing up a little straighter Ashlyn looked to Cassandra. With a smirk, she began the introductions. 

“This is Commander Cullen — leader of the Inquisition’s forces.” Ashlyn looked over at the only man in the room. He was tall, a large fur cloak wrapped around him. A proud piece of armor sitting on his broad chest. Curly blond hair sat on his head, and his lips were in a hard line. He looked very serious. Ashlyn noticed the white scar running through the top of his lip and she wondered how he got it. When she saw his mouth open, she blinked herself back into reality.

“Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”His amber eyes flicked up to meet hers. They were tired, large dark circles sitting underneath them. They stared at each other for a few seconds, getting a read on the other person before their eyes darted away. 

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador, and Chief Diplomat.” Ashlyn’s flickered over to the dark-haired woman. She was quite beautiful, dark hair pulled back away from her face, rich, olive skin and shiny pink lips. A pang of jealousy went through Ashlyn — a feeling she did not get very often. 

“I’ve heard much. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.” Ashlyn flashed Josephine a polite smile, before attempting to focus back on Cassandra. 

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana.” She pointed to the familiar red-head, wrapped in purple. 

“My position here involves a degree of...” Leliana paused for effect but was interrupted.    


“She is our Spymaster.” Cassandra took away her punchline.

“Yes... tactfully put Cassandra.” She grimaced. 

Ashlyn swallowed hard, before speaking. “Pleased to meet you all.” She felt nervous as the council continue to stare at her. She began playing with the tips of her fingers behind her back. 

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach.” Cassandra took control of the room again. For someone who wasn’t a part of this Council, she seemed to be the main force driving the Inquisition. 

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana offered. 

“And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.” Cullen took a powerful stance, his hand sat on the hilt of his sword. 

Ashlyn looked up at the mention of the templars. Her mouth formed a hard line. 

Cassandra let out a heavy sigh. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark—” She pointed to Ashlyn’s hand. 

“Might destroy us all! Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—” Cullen was interrupted by Leliana. 

“Pure speculation.” She stated. Her hands folded behind her back.

“I _was_ a templar. I know what they are capable of.” He hung his head down, realizing he was being outnumbered. 

Ashlyn’s eyebrows furrowed at this revelation. It was not what she had expected from the Commander.

Josephine had remained silent up until now. Carefully reading her scrolls. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition — and _you_ , specifically.” She looked to Ashlyn.

Ashlyn let out a loud breath. “That didn’t take long.” 

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” Cullen offered, throwing his hands in the air. 

Josephine continued her explanation. “Some are calling you the “Herald of Andraste”, and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy and we, heretics for harboring you.” 

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing — no doubt.” Cassandra frowned. 

 Josephine skimmed through her scrolls some more. “It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.” 

Ashlyn was still stuck on her new title, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation. “Just how am I the Herald of Andraste?!”  

Cassandra attempted to explain. “People saw what you did at the temple — how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading —” Leliana spoke but was quickly interrupted by Cassandra. 

“Which we have not.” 

“The point is everyone is talking about you.” She finished. 

Ashlyn stared down at the cobblestone. This situation was becoming more complicated with each passing second. She was a mercenary. A runaway. Not a lady. And definitely not a Herald! 

“That’s quite the title, isn’t it?” The blond commander had spoken to her. He was looking at her gently, his eyes softening. “How do you feel about that?” 

She couldn’t help but curl her lips. Her hatred for the Chantry was long standing. Her families deep roots and obsession with it and any of its extensions caused too much misery in her lifetime. “I’m no Herald of anything. Particularly not Andraste.” 

Cullen let out a soft chuckle. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.” The sound was delightful in Ashlyn’s ears. She felt so conflicted — _What is this place? Who are these people?_ She had agreed to aid the Inquisition, but now in the presence of this templar and his charm, and the politics Ashlyn was regretting her decision. 

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.” Leliana tried optimistically. 

Josephine, the realist, cut in, however. “And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” 

Ashlyn finally erupted, irritated from all of the politics. “They aren’t more concerned about the Breach?! The real threat?” 

Cullen spoke directly to her again. “They do know it’s a threat. They just don’t think _we_ can stop it.” His eyes were understanding — he knew how she felt. 

“The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse.” Josephine clarified.

“There is something you can do.” Leliana offered. “A chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.

Ashlyn was wary. “She asked for me? You don’t think that could be an ambush..” 

“I doubt it. From what I know of her, she is a kind soul and not the sort to involve herself in violence.” Leliana reassured. “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.” 

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you are there.” Cullen requested.

Josephine added on. “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.” 

Ashlyn let out a heavy sigh. _I should have brought a quill if I knew I was going to get so many quests._

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.” Cassandra glared at the Council, before grabbing Ashlyn’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“Now, for the deploying our men. Scout Harding and her men will be sent ahead to the Hinterlands.” The Commander reached across the great table, grabbing a marker. “Then...” He looked up to Ashlyn, “The Hera— Lady Trevelyan will follow to establish more camps.” 

“Any word of our missing soldiers?” Leliana spoke up, her arms crossed over her petite figure.

“Yes. They are somewhere in Fallow Mire. It will be difficult to find them, but for morale, it is of utmost importance.” Commander Cullen said sternly. “My men have already volunteered themselves. We are desperate to get our comrades back.” 

“Very well. We will send a number of our forces to Fallow Mire in an attempt to rescue those missing soldiers.” Josephine quickly spoke as she scribbled away on her clipboard. 

“I think that’s enough of us for one day yes? We do not want to exhaust our people or resources too fast.” Cassandra attempted to be polite. But her tapping foot showed that she was itching to leave. “Perhaps, Josephine and Leliana will set up the rest of the markers for further discussion at a later time.” 

“Yes, of course,” Josephine answered delightfully, as she placed down her scrolls and parchments to begin organizing the war table. 

Ashlyn let out a breath of relief. She gave a small smile to Cassandra before turning to leave. The Council was still setting markers and Ashlyn used their distraction to her advantage and left quietly. Just as she got to the large, ornate door at the end of the hall she heard a voice call after her and the sound of steps behind her. 

“Hera— Lady Trevelyan!” 

With a sigh, Ashlyn turned around to meet them. 

* * *

  _Grey._ Her eyes are grey. Cullen grabbed the hilt of his sword as he bent over the table to reach for a marker. He had been wondering what colour they would be, ever since he had first seen her whilst she was injured from the Breach. He had thought she was fairly attractive then, but now as she stood just a few steps from him... Cullen tried to focus again. 

He reached for a marker, but his fingertips brushed up against soft silk. He grabbed on to the scarf that Ashlyn had left behind. 

“I’ll be back.” He said suddenly, raising the scarf in the air and running out the room. His leather boots slapped the stone floor as he chased after her. “Hera —” He stopped himself. _She doesn’t want to be a Herald... Remember!_ “Lady Trevelyan!” 

He watched as she stopped just in front of the Chantry doors, turning around to meet him. He stopped jogging and attempted to walk casually up to her. “You forgot this.” Waving the green scarf around again. 

“Right, thank you,” Ashlyn said quietly, taking the scarf from him. She gingerly wrapped it around her neck, before flicking her hair out from under it. Her hair bounced around her face, falling into a frame. Cullen gulped as he got a waft of her fragrance. She smelled sunny, like honey and the woods. 

“It was nice to finally meet you,” Cullen spoke, hoping to keep her for just a moment longer. “We had all been waiting for some time.”  

She noticed his painstaking formality, “Yes, I understand I was badly injured. I’m grateful for Adan’s treatment.” 

“As am I.” He breathed. Embarrassed he quickly spoke again. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

Ashlyn blinked, “Alright... Commander,” As she moved to turn away, she spoke again. “If you ever want to spar, I would be happy to help you.”

“Help _me_?” Cullen snarled. He couldn’t help himself — he was a _Commander,_ he prided himself on his combat skills. 

“I noticed while watching you spar with your recruits, that you leave your right flank quite vulnerable.” 

“Huh. Maybe, sometime then.” Cullen nodded, reimagining himself in battle to see if she was right. “Right then... farewell Lady Trevelyan.”

“Good day Commander.” A cheeky smile was playing on the edge of her lips as she turned away from him. 

Cullen was left baffled. That was not what he was expecting. He had hoped that speaking to Ashlyn would solve the mystery surrounding her — but it only made it bigger. 

_Wait... Did she say she was watching me?_ Cullen’s mind started reeling in confusion. It was all a little much for the usually, simple and tactful Commander. First, the world has he knew it was thrown into chaos, _again._ Then a mysterious prisoner is brought to Haven, who gave her word to aid the Inquisition. To top it off, every time he looks at her he feels as if he cannot breathe, as if is heart is climbing up his throat. 

With a humph, Cullen marched back into the war room still bewildered. “Sorry about that.” He attempted to say normally, but he caught a glance from both Leliana and Josephine. Ignoring them, Cullen bent over his red face and started positioning more markers across the map of Thedas.

* * *

_The Hinterlands are fun._

 A smile was plastered on Ashlyn’s face as she placed her onyx daggers back into the straps on her back. The blood on them flickered in the golden sun. It felt good to be fighting again. Not confined to the walls of Haven.

Harritt had made the daggers just for her after he noticed the iron ones she picked up off a dead man while closing the Breach. It was a token Ashlyn very much appreciated. Cassandra had also presented her with new armour, bearing the Inquisition’s crest on the chest piece. It was harder for Ashlyn to let go of her worn and withered armour, but she knew better-crafted armour would be needed. 

But still, even with the new armour and weapons, Ashlyn still kept those that were familiar close. The small dagger strapped to her thigh, the green scarf wrapped around her head like a hood and the handcrafted belt that lazily sat on her hips. 

The smile on her face faltered as she looked at her feet. The apostate mage laid on the grass, his face frozen in fear. Ashlyn had been doing her best to avoid crossing paths with the templars and mages -- but this mage had killed a bystander in the process. She saw Cassandra grimace as she bent down to search the mage. Twenty-four gold and a folded parchment were all that he had on him. Adding the gold to her pouch, she unfolded the note to read it.

It was a map, brutally drawn in haste. But it depicted a scene in a forest, with a large circle with the words _cache_ written in curly lettering. “Well, it looks like one of the apostate’s caches is nearby.” Slipping the note into her pocket, she backed away from the body. 

Solas stepped forward, raising his staff as he closed his eyes and mumbled a spell. The body erupted in an eerie blue mist before it seemed to disintegrate leaving nothing behind. Varric shuttered as he watched, “That still creeps me out.” 

“It’s a peaceful spell. It is setting the soul free.” Solas bowed his head as the spell finished, before looking back up to Ashlyn. “Herald?”

Ashlyn scowled at the title. No one had listened to her when she said she would prefer they not call her that. _Better than Lady Trevelyan._ She shuttered at the name. “Let’s find this cache.” Raising her fingers to the horizon, she was able to place three of her fingers between it and the sun. “We only have a few more hours of sunlight left. We will head back to camp once we find it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 4**

The stars were out, flickering white in the dark navy sky. A crescent moon was shining too, casting its light down across the forest. A fire was burning in the centre of the Crossroads. Refugees stood, shivering around it. The smell of stew brewing was a wave over the Crossroads, as hunters and mothers attempted to make enough to feed the hungry crowds.

“Thank you again, Herald, for hunting these rams.” The hunter spoke as he stirred the large pot in front of him.

“Will there be enough? I can get more.” Ashlyn was worried, her arms crossed as she looked over at the crowd of people.

“No, this is more than enough. And the rest of the hunters will be able to go now that the roads are safe from the templars and mages.”

“Right.” She looked down to her leather boots, remembering the bloody faces of the rogue templars and apostates she had put down that day.

“You know, for a fighter, you can cut a pretty nice cut of meat.” The hunter spoke again, breaking the silence.

“I had been on my own for a while before this. I know how to survive.” Looking up, Ashlyn noticed those who could not fit in next to the fire. “I’ll be back.” She said, giving the hunter a small wave.

Unbuckling the chest she had brought with her, she rummaged through it until she pulled out thick, wool blankets. They had found them on their adventures today, in caches that had been hidden by the apostates. Tucking them into the crooks of her arms, she began handing them out to the refugees. They all smiled and thanked her, tears staining their cold red cheeks. With her heart slowly breaking, she moved back to the chest to hand out more supplies when she saw something.

A flicker in the shadows. Squinting she noticed a little boy, crouched down behind a merchant’s crate. Moving towards him, she lowered herself down onto her knees to match his height. “Hello.” She whispered, moving her head to the side.

He copied her, his face peering over the box. “Hello.” The boy looked about three years old.

“I’m Ashlyn. What is your name?”

“Henry.” He replied, moving slowly closer to her.

“Who did you come here with Henry?” She asked. Her heart was beginning to climb up my throat.

“Grandmother. She went to find us somewhere to sleep.” He looked down at the ground, his lashes brushing up against his rosy cheeks. “I’m scared.”

“You can stay with me until she comes back, yes?” Ashlyn offered her hand to the boy. He stared at if for a second, before rushing into her arms.

Standing up, she picked the boy up and rested him on her hip. “Are you hungry?” The boy nodded profusely, his bottom lip jutting out. “Alright then.” She took the boy, back to where the hunter had arranged the food for the refugees. Taking a bun, she ripped it up for him and offered it in her palm. His little fingers grabbed the piece quickly, plunging the bread into his mouth.

Awkwardly opening the chest with one hand, she grabbed one of the brown blankets from it, before closing and sitting on it like a bench. Wrapping it around Henry, she placed him on her lap while he continued chewing on the bread.

Ashlyn had not been able to sleep, that is why she came down to the Crossroads. She had listened to crickets and Cassandra’s light snoring for two hours before giving up and crawled out of the tent. She then carried the chest they had found that day down the hill, banging it against her knees as she went. But she was greeted with an overwhelming amount of gratefulness. Immediately, refugees had started coming up to her, thanking her for the supplies and making them feel safe.

“Hey, Freckles.”

Ashlyn looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. She had been listening to it for the past week, making jokes to pass the time as they wandered the Hinterlands. Her eyes met Varric’s — he was standing in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Varric, what are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Her eyebrows furrowed at her companion.

“I was just gonna ask you the same thing.” He looked down at the child in her arms. “Who’s the kid?”

“Henry.” She looked down at the boy, whose big eyes were flickering open and close as he tried to fight sleep. “His grandmother left him here, she went to find them somewhere to stay for the night.”

Varric licked his lips, looking at the boy again. “Maybe she’s looking for him. I’ll be back.”

Ashlyn watched as the red-headed dwarf walked over to the campfire. He made gestures to the refugees, describing the little boy to see if anyone recognized him. Looking down at Henry again, a lump started to form in her throat. She watched his little chest rising up and down, his fingers wound into her scarf.

A shadow cast over them, causing Ashlyn to look back up. Varric was coming back, with an elderly woman in tow. He gave her a smile and nod. It was the boy’s grandmother.

“Thank the Maker, Henry!!” The woman exclaimed, rushing up to them. The little boy stirred, opening his eyes.

“Grandmother!” He jumped out of Ashlyn’s arms into the elderly woman’s. She was exhausted, dirt smudges all over her clothes.

“Thank you, Herald. I — I didn’t know what else to do.” Tears began forming in her eyes.

Ashlyn quickly gathered up the blanket and wrapped it around them. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” She smiled at her reassuringly. “Do you know of Mother Giselle?” The woman nodded, wiping her tears away. “She is joining us at Haven. Tell her that I sent you, and wish for you to accompany her alright? Her camp is just over there.” She pointed a finger over to the path with the smile.

With a final wave goodbye to the grandmother and child, Ashlyn pulled up her green scarf and began to stalk off. “Hey!” Varric called after, just noticing her leaving. He was huffing by the time he had caught up to her.

“You aren’t what I expected Freckles.” He wheezed through his breaths.

She flashed him a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean for some expressionless, ex-mercenary, shadow lurking gal — you’ve got a pretty big heart. You’ve put a lot of time in with the people here.”

Ashlyn stopped dead in her tracks, whipping around. “What, am I not allowed to be a decent human being?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying.” Varric raised his hands in the air defensively. “All I’m saying is most likely anyone else would have seen that kid and kept on walking. Not cradle them in their arms and feed them.”

“Yeah, well I guess I’m not anyone else.” She raised her eyebrows, her eyes glinting in the darkness.

He chuckled. “You ever gonna tell me your story?”

The smallest of smiles played on Ashlyn’s lips. “Maybe one day Varric. How about you tell me yours first?”

* * *

The yellow flame that topped the stubby candle flickered, getting close to fading out completely. Cullen’s tired eyes strained to read the parchment in the disappearing light.

_Commander,_   
_The Hinterlands proved to be a very beneficial journey. We were able to recruit Mother Giselle, horses, and Master Dennet himself._

_Some refugees have devoted themselves to the Inquisition as well — soldiers, carpenters and more. They will accompany us with the horses on our return._

_Trevelyan has made a name for herself here. She has aided the refugees immensely_   
_— her name is slowly being whispered across the land._

_Expect us to return in two days time, after sunset. I will tell you more then._

_— Cassandra_

The letter had been written in haste, evident from the sloppy handwriting and splotches of ink. It had arrived two days before by raven, landing on Cullen’s tactical map out on the field. It had been a relief for the council to receive such good news. After the denouncement from the Chantry and inability to approach the templars or the mages, the Inquisition had needed some good news.

As the sun set on the anticipated day of their return, Cullen’s stomach had started doing backflips. He was anxious — a feeling the Commander was beginning to feel on a daily basis. Leliana had laughed at him earlier, stalking across the grounds with his head low and hands behind his back.

“Relax Cullen. They are fine.” She attempted to reassure him.

“I know, but,” She interrupted him.

“No buts. I have received word from my scouts, they are fine.”

Not reassured, Cullen felt restless and remained at his post long after the rest of the council went to bed. With a sigh, he looked through the window to the large, white moon sitting in the stormy, midnight sky. He watched large chunks of snow whip across the glass. Of course, there had to be a storm tonight as well. The scraping of the grand door to the Chantry caused Cullen to jump out of his seat. Marching down the hallway, his cloak whipped at his ankles.

“Commander! Seeker Cassandra has arrived.” A soldier on post had come to tell him, sounding slightly out of breath. Throwing open the doors, Cullen walked out into the winter storm.

Plowing through the white as quickly as possible, he felt the snow creeping into his leather boots. As he reached the top of the staircase, he saw a small party of people shivering at the bottom of it. Cassandra was standing tall, her fists at her side as she attempted to fight off the cold. A woman in Chantry robes, who could only be Mother Giselle, was standing next to her. She was completely wrapped up in her robes, making sure to cover every piece of skin. Solas had the usual grim look on his face, his hands covering his ears from the cold and Varric’s constant chattering.

“What are we standing around for? There is a warm inn with a stool waiting for me!” Running up the snow-covered stairs, Varric gave an exaggerated salute to Cullen. “Curly.” He winked, before disappearing into the inn. Solas sighed in disapproval, heading towards his cabin without a word.

Cullen trudged down the steps, meeting the others. “Cassandra, Mother Giselle.” He gave them both a polite nod. “I hope the journey was not too rough.”

“The storm did delay us a bit. But everyone and everything has arrived safely. Master Dennet is getting the horses into the stables. Some refugees are heading inside as well.” Cassandra looked exhausted, the bags under her eyes had turned a purply-blue.

“Good,” Cullen said sternly. “Where is the Herald?” He was concerned she was not with them. Perhaps their only hope had run away at the last moment.

Cassandra pointed out the gate. “Unloading her horse. I am going to bring poor Mother Giselle inside. Before we all freeze to death.” Looping her arm into the other woman’s, Cassandra pulled the Mother toward the Chantry.

Shielding his face from the cold wind, Cullen slipped through the large gate. A group of his soldiers were leading horses into stables, an older man with a silver beard was directing them. A few children were huddled together, sitting on different packs and bags that belonged to the refugees. Some adults were chatting excitedly beside them, looking around Haven. Cullen scanned the group for Ashlyn, then a familiar flicker of green caught his eye. She was petting a pure black horse, her slender hands running down its nose.

“Lady Trevelyan.”

Tired, grey eyes flicked to his face. “Ashlyn, Commander. Please.”

Looking down, embarrassed. “Right, I apologize.” Cullen gulped, before speaking again. “You look well.”

“Really? Because I feel like shit.” Cullen was unsure of what to say, but when a smile broke out across her face he chuckled.

“Well, you went beyond your duties. I would imagine you must be exhausted.”

Ashlyn patted the hind of her horse, sending it off towards the rest of the herd. The two began to walk up the path leading back into Haven, the snow crunching under their boots.

“I was very surprised when I received that letter from Cassandra. The refugees, the requisitions, more recruits… I thought we would receive some horses and Mother Giselle. Not all of that.” Cullen used a gloved hand to gesture behind him to the group of people trickling into Haven.

“Did you have low expectations of me?” Ashlyn asked, the curves of her lips turning down.

“No! I just…” He couldn’t help himself, the question had been burning on his lips from the moment he had heard about her. “I’m curious about why you are doing this. We accused you of murder, and treason. We arrested you, put you in chains. Yet you pledge yourself to us.” His eyebrows were furrowed as he waited for an answer.

The pair stopped in their tracks, standing in the burrow of cabins next to Haven’s grand wooden gates.

“I don’t have a lot of friends?” Ashlyn offered, smiling awkwardly. But with a sigh, she continued, “That’s not true. Well, it is… But it isn’t the real reason.”

Turning on her heel, she started walking to her cabin door, “When Cassandra told me that this thing,” She clenched her hand into a fist, the smallest green flicker could still be seen. “Could be the solution. I just thought that everyone else is fighting for some cause. For the mage rebellion, for the templars. For the chantry, the King or the Queen. Andraste.” Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “But who is fighting for the farmers? The healers? The mothers, or bakers? Humanity? All of Thedas is at risk because of this Breach. But everyone else is too busy playing the game to realize. The Inquisition could be Thedas’ saviour.”

Cullen’s mouth fell open, stunned by her answer. Letting out a breath, he spoke. “You are not what I expected Ashlyn Trevelyan.” He noticed that they were now standing outside of his old cabin door. “I should let you rest, you more than deserve it.” His eyes squinted as he smiled at her, before turning away.

“Goodnight, Commander.” The cabin door closed softly behind her.

* * *

The sun flickered off of the fresh, white snow. Ashlyn stepped out into it, bundled up in a new leather jacket. After her time in the sunny Hinterlands, she was having a terrible time readjusting to the snowy climate of Haven. Moving her arms around herself, she began to trudge up to the Chantry.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Ashlyn’s ears perked as she heard a commotion up the hill from her. She bolted over to the noise, before coming to a halt.

It was a group of the new refugees and recruits that had followed her up to Haven. A large circle had formed around the Chantry doors, with two men arguing and shoving in the middle of it. Silver armour flickered in the sun on one man, while the other carried a staff. The fight between the templars and mages had made its way into Haven’s walls.

“Your kind killed the most holy!” The templar jabbed a pointed finger at the mage.

“Lies — your kind let her die!” The mages fingers wiggled on his staff. The crowd surrounding them started buzzing with nerves.

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The templar roared, shoving the mage in the chest.

Ashlyn moved to push herself through the crowd to them, but suddenly the ornate doors of the Chantry were thrown open. Commander Cullen marched through them, his shoulders thrown back and his armour gleaming in the sun. He threw himself between the templar and mage, separating them. “Enough!!” His mouth curved into a snarl, distorting the scar that ran along his lip.

“Knight-Captain…”

With a grimace, Cullen looked to the pair — then to the small audience gathering around them. “That is not my title. We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!”

A slimy voice asked from the crowd, “And what does that mean, exactly?” Chancellor Roderick pushed through the people until he was standing in front of Cullen.

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

He shrugged slyly. “I’m curious Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.”

“Of course you are” Cullen snarled, gritting his teeth. “Back to your duties, all of you!” He pointed menacingly, flashing a cold look to the templar who had started the fight. A low grumble escaped Cullen as the Chancellor approached him again.

Ashlyn’s fist clenched unconsciously as she moved to meet the two men. Her disdain for the Chancellor grew with every visit from him.

“The mages and templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.” Cullen sighed, his eyes flickered to Ashlyn who was fast approaching.

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order.” Chancellor Roderick responded, pointing is chin high into the air.

“Who, you?” Cullen’s lip curled, “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Roderick made a noise of disgust. “The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’? I think not.” He crossed his arms around his frail body.

Ashlyn interjected, “If the ‘proper’ authority hadn’t completely failed, the Conclave wouldn’t have been needed in the first place.”

“So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?” His tone was dramatic on the last word.

“That won’t help restore order in the here and now.” Cullen’s nostril flared — this man aggravated him to no end.

The Chancellor sneered. “Order will never be restored as long as this rebellion is allowed to fester.”

Exasperated, Ashlyn resorted to sarcasm. She was done with Chancellor Roderick and this conversation. “Well let’s hope we find solutions, and not a cathedral full of Chancellors.”

Cullen caught on, pretending to shutter. “The stuff of nightmares.” They flashed each other a cheeky grin.

“Mock if you will. I’m certain the Maker is less amused.” The Chancellor scowled, recognizing his defeat.

Rolling his eyes, Cullen turned on his heel with Ashlyn in tow.

“I loathe that man,” Cullen said through gritted teeth once they were in inside. “Hopefully in this meeting, we will find a way to get the Chantry off of our backs.”

“I’m sure I’ll be of some use. I’ve been slipping past the Chantry for my entire life.” Ashlyn wiggled her eyebrows, as they strolled towards the War Room.

“Your dislike for the Chantry is very evident. Why is that?” Cullen curiously asked.

“Well, uh—”, But Ashlyn was cut off.

“Herald! Great, I need to speak with you!” A voice called from a half-open door behind them.

“Oh, I guess I’ll meet you in there.” She squeezed the Commander’s elbow, before turning on her heel and entering the room.

It was heavily decorated, in an attempt to hide the crumbling brick walls. A perfectly organized desk sat in the centre of it, with stacks of crisp parchment and several quills laying on it.

“Yes, Ambassador?” Ashlyn looked to the raven-haired women, sitting behind the desk.

Looking up from the parchment she was reading, Josephine spoke. “I’d like to discuss your parents.”

A scowl immediately formed on Ashlyn’s face. “To what purpose?”

“I’d like to dispatch a courier asking the banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us.” Josephine put the parchment she was reading down, folding her hands onto the wooden desk politely. “What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?”

Grabbing the bridge of her nose, Ashlyn sighed. “With the Trevelyans, my presence may close more doors than it opens. My family and I … are not on the best of terms.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I shall not press the matter, but others will.” The Ambassador blinked several times. “Val Royeaux has noted your lineage. It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not so much as we’d hoped.”

“Why not?”

“You are from Ostwik.” Josephine explained, “Orlesian nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat…quaint.”

A snort escaped Ashlyn. “It’s no concern of mine what Val Royeaux’s court thinks.”

Josephine shook her head at the Herald. “Do not take this lightly. Their displeasure could do more harm than the Breach.” Noting Ashlyn’s hard face, she changed the conversation. “Speaking of displeasure, I hope you don’t find this place too rustic.”

Ashlyn had long noticed the gold-leafed books and fine silks that Josephine carried and wore, “This can’t be what you’re accustomed to Ambassador.”

“One adjusts. I stay busy.” She gestured to her desk. “It helps take my mind from our surroundings… And the cold. And the wildlife. And the lack of civilization for miles around.” An exasperated sigh escaped her. “Why anyone lived here before we found Andraste’s ashes, I cannot imagine.”

Ashlyn had to stifle a snicker. “Don’t worry about me. Haven’s more than livable.” She thought to the mangled tent she had been sleeping in before this.

But she noticed Josephine’s disappointment. The woman had probably been hoping to find another distinguished lady. Ashlyn entertained the idea, “I’d swear our families have met before, though.”

Josephine sat up a little straighter. “Perhaps. Every one of distinction in the Free Marches attends Lady Trevelyan’s summer balls.” A smile of delight spread across her face.

But Ashlyn felt a shiver go down her spine at the mention of Lady Trevelyan. She unclenched her jaw. “Great-Aunt Lucille always loved a party.”

Josephine tilted her head, “I don’t recall seeing you at any of them.”

Ashlyn bit her lip, letting the charade slip. “The food was peppered with too many attempts at matchmaking for my tastes.”

“A common peril among nobility no matter where one goes.” Josephine raised her chin high, taking in Ashlyn’s face. “Well then, shall we go to the War Room? I believe we have kept them waiting long enough.”

Pushing the door open, Ashlyn let Josephine exit the room first. She grimaced at the sour taste in her mouth. Everybody was asking difficult questions today — the Chantry, her parents. Sighing, she wandered into the Council’s room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 5**

The sounds of metal clashing on metal echoed out past the frozen lake of Haven. Men threw up their shields, dull swords clanking against them. "You there! There's a shield in your hand. Block with it! If this man were your enemy, you would be dead." Cullen sounded irritated, his blonde brows furrowed as he continued to watch the recruits train.

"Lieutenant, don't hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one." He said through gritted teeth.

The young man gulped, nodding profusely. "Yes, Commander." With a salute, the man turned on his heels and began marching down the aisles of recruits.

A sigh escaped Cullen. He was relieved to receive more recruits, boosting the numbers of his army. But it just added to the stress of training skinny, fumbling recruits how to actually fight. Or else, sending them to their deaths. He shook the grim thought out of his head, just as he looked over to see the Herald approaching with a sour look on her face.

"So, it is decided?" Cullen asked.

Ashlyn nodded back sternly. "Yes, we will be leaving soon. Harritt is finishing repairing our weapons now."

"I did argue against this, I hope you know." Cullen was concerned. The squad had just returned two days ago, now they were already packing to leave again. He was also doubtful of how putting the Herald into the hands of the Chantry was beneficial.

"I do. I honestly don't know how much I can do by confronting the Chantry…" She kicked at the snow with her leather boots. "But it must be done."

Remembering the awkwardness that ensued at the last mention of the Chantry, Cullen changed the conversation. "We've received a number of recruits — locals from Haven and some pilgrims." He pointed a gloved finger out to the people surrounding him. "None made quite the entrance you did."

She grimaced, staring down at her mark. "That wasn't my idea."

Cullen chuckled at her reaction. "I'd be concerned if it was." That eased Ashlyn. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself." The pair began weaving through the recruits and brown tents. "I was there during the mage uprising — I saw firsthand the devastation it caused."

Ashlyn's eyes widened with bewilderment at the mention of Kirkwall, "Wait, you were in Kirkwall?" But their conversation was interrupted by a messenger wrapped in green and khaki.

"Ser!" He handed him a report, before slinking away silently. He was clearly one of Leliana's trained scouts.

Cullen multitasked, reading the report as he continued to talk to Ashlyn. He hadn't heard her earlier comment. "Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause."

They reached the edge of the lake, staring out into the white abyss of ice. "Now it seems we face something far worse."

"You left the templars for this. You believe the Inquisition can work?" Her mauve lips were parted, listening intently.

"I do." Cullen nodded. "The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains." He gestured up to the sky. "The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There's so much we can — Forgive me." He stopped himself, his hands collapsing to his side. "I doubt you came here for a lecture."

"No, but if you have one prepared I'd love to hear it," Ashlyn replied slyly, raising an eyebrow.

A laugh escaped Cullen, taking him by surprise. "Another time, perhaps."

The corners of Ashlyn's plump mouth turned upwards into a smile. She avoided his stare, looking back down into the snow.

 _Maker's breath, is she flirting with me?_ Cullen thought, before shaking his head. "I, ah…" He cleared his throat. "There's still a lot of work ahead."

To his relief, a messenger appeared again. He looked more exasperated than the last one. "Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines."

"As I was saying." Cullen raised his thick blonde brows, pursing his lips before following him. He waved his black-gloved hand as he walked away.

"See you," Ashlyn whispered to herself as she watched the Commander's fur cloak flicker as he walked away.

She scanned around, her shoulders sinking. She had just gotten back to the wretched place and was hoping she would be able to stay put for awhile. Looking down at her tired feet, she began sliding them through the snow towards the blacksmith's shed.

"Ah, Herald! Here you are. All sharpened and ready to go." Harritt waved her onyx daggers at Ashlyn as she approached. He looked exhausted, purple bags laid underneath his eyes. She was beginning to grow fond of the people of Haven, they were kindhearted.

"Thank you, Harritt." Ashlyn took them, sheathing them into the leather straps on her back. "Are the rest of you ready to go?"

Cassandra gave a stern "Yes," as she finished tying the dark leather saddle to her horse. She had been up and ready at dawn, dressed in full gear without one complaint. Ashlyn was starting to think that there was no possible way Cassandra was only human.

Solas seemed to be his usual self. He was leaning up against the wall of the shed, his eyebrows furrowed as his watched the others prepare. "I am ready," He spoke eloquently, before resuming his observations.

Varric, on the other hand, was not having any of it. Ashlyn could hear his grumbles as he filled his quiver with bolts. Bianca was slung across his shoulder, dangling into the snow. Ashlyn wandered over to him, her shadow looming over him as he worked. "Tired?", she asked.

"Understatement of the century." Varric moaned, putting Bianca down so he could put his quiver back on. "We got back two days ago, and they are already sending us off."

Ashlyn chuckled at him, feeling sympathetic. "Too much ale at the inn last night? Feeling a little hungover?"

Varric scoffed. "Too many?! Not enough! I had to turn in early last night after Cassandra came in and spoiled my fun." His bottom lip jutted out, forming a childish pout.

"Nobody is requesting you stay Varric." The Seeker rang out from her horse, scowling at him. "But we must reach Val Royeaux on time, we cannot miss the Chantry's addressing the city."

Ashlyn ran her slender fingers through her horse's black mane. With one final sigh, she swung her leg up and onto the saddle, straddling the horse.

"There is no other option but to approach the Chantry. Our hands are tied at the moment." Cassandra steered her horse next to Ashlyn's, watching her get adjusted.

"I'm sure they will welcome the astounded Herald with open arms." Ashlyn rolled her gray eyes.

"We will tread carefully. I promise nothing will come of you." Cassandra was not in a joking mood, her eyes were serious.

Ashlyn nodded thankfully. "Hopefully we can make contact with others along the way, expand our squad for these missions. Even if we hire some mercenaries. "

"Yeah, it would be nice to have a break every once in a while," Varric called from behind them as he struggled to get onto his horse.

"That is my plan. If I can gather a few other squad members, it won't be so hard on the rest of you." Grabbing onto the amber reigns, she began trotting towards the path leading out of Haven.

"And what of you, Herald? No hired hand can replace you, or the mark." Cassandra had ridden to her side, looking comfortable on her gray steed.

Ashlyn looked over to the Seeker, who genuinely looked concerned. "I know. I alone will pay that price."

A guilty pang hit her, her dark eyes lowering. "You are not alone in this. Do well to remember that." Pulling the reigns, she slowed his horse down before crossing down to ride behind her.

They crossed through the heavy tree line, entering into the barren field of white. Ashlyn stared at the swirling flakes and muted sky in the distance. Pushing her shoulders back, she lifted herself up a little higher. "Let's ride." She dug the heels of her leather boots gently into her horse and began racing across the white tundra.

* * *

The luxurious courtyard of Val Royeaux was full of gossip and whispers, as the crowd that had gathered for the Chantry address moved back to their stalls and apartments. The marching templars were past the front gates now, leaving the grand city behind.

Cassandra's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "We should first return to Haven and inform the others." She had not been expecting Lord Seeker Lucius. Staring at the intricate pattern of the cobblestones, Cassandra thought of Cullen — he would not like this.

Suddenly, she felt a gloved hand on her shoulder. It gently pushed her to the side, causing Cassandra to stumble over her own boots. "What the —?" A red arrow had burrowed itself into the crevasse of the cobblestone, a few feet from Cassandra. She looked up to see who had pushed her.

Ashlyn raised her eyebrows, "Sorry. I saw the archer on the roof, just didn't want to startle you."

Cassandra's nostrils flared, "You saw an archer aiming into a courtyard full of people and you didn't stop them! After what just happened?!"

A heavy sigh escaped Ashlyn, as she listened to Cassandra's dramatics. "They were aiming at the ground. They were trying to get our attention, that's all." Leaning over, Ashlyn wrenched the arrow out of the ground. Her fingers swirled open a piece of parchment attached to it.

"What's that? An arrow with a message?" Cassandra demanded.

Ashlyn's eyes darted over the parchment, as she read it in silence. "Apparently Red Jenny wants to help."

A chuckle escaped Varric, "That can't be good."

"What would those hooligans want to do with the Inquisition?" Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, do we want extra squad members or not?" The tired faces of her companions nodded solemnly. "Then we shall meet this friend of Red Jenny." Ashlyn remarked.

The foursome began to walk together, weaving through the merchant stalls and gossiping civilians. A Chancellor snarled at Ashlyn as she walked by, but she ignored him. Val Royeaux had not been as terrible as Ashlyn had thought. At least now they knew were they stood with the Templars, and Ashlyn was able to establish some contacts, which would deliver food to Haven.

"It seems that another wants our attention, Herald," Solas spoke from the back of the group, pointing a slender finger to a mage.

The Circle mage stood up slightly taller as he saw the group approaching. "You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not? I have an invitation for you." He bowed his head, before departing.

"Apparently everyone in Val Royeaux now knows we have arrived." Varric scanned the crowd, his eyes darting across the faces.

Ashlyn read the letter out loud this time, her gloved finger following the elegant, loopy handwriting.

_"You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain._

_Yours,_

_Vivienne de Fer_

_First Enchanter of Montsimmard_

_Enchanter of the Imperial Court"_

"That's a lot of titles." Varric proclaimed, "Could be a good thing."

"We did not come here to attend Salons. I will not be drinking sherry and socializing with nobility." Ashlyn clenched her jaw tight, her teeth smacking together.

"She is a First Enchanter. It could be beneficial to have another mage on our side. Especially, if we will be approaching the mages for support now." Solas proposed.

Cassandra grabbed onto Ashlyn, "I have come to see that you are bitter in regards to nobility and anything associated with the Chantry. But we must think about what is best for the Inquisition." She explained.

Ashlyn grumbled, "Fine. But let's go before anyone else delivers another letter.”

* * *

 _The circle seemed to be getting tighter and smaller. He banged his fists against the blue light, but they bounced off easily. His mouth opened in horror as he watched a Rage Demon move closer to the_ armoured _man, lying helplessly on the floor. "No!" Cullen roared, throwing himself at the circular, blue wall again. His eyes widened as he watched the blazing fire of the demon engulf his friend. He pressed his palms against his ears, attempting to muffle the shrieks. His eyes squeezed shut so hard that his whole face contorts in pain. He tempts himself to open his eyes, to look at the miserable scene to see if it is over. The flicker of orange is all he sees as —_

Cullen's eyes wrenched open, as he woke gulping for air. His eyes shot around in the darkness, attempting to remember where he was. The screen pulled up around his bed had turned pink in the light cast from a red candle stump that was flickering on a set of drawers. Haven. He thought as he pushed himself up in the bed.

His dreams seemed only to be getting worst. The sheet was sticky with sweat as Cullen pulled it off of him. Stepping behind the screen, Cullen pulled on his leather trousers and a light top. He had requested the screen for more privacy from his female roommates. Mostly due to the fear of them waking up during one of his nightmares. They were part of his withdrawals, as he was no longer taking any lyrium. But they were also in part from the trauma of his past — Cullen had had that same dream long before he stopped being a templar.

Sliding on a pair of slippers, Cullen crept out of his shared bedroom in silence. It was still night, the Chantry hall empty of anyone. He wandered into the war room, closing the large door behind him. White knuckles gripped the thick wooden table, as he dragged himself closer to it. He still felt exhausted, his eyelids feeling heavy. But every time he closed his eyes, he knew that the terrifying flashbacks would come back. He slumped into his chair with a heavy sigh.

Widening his eyes, Cullen attempted to focus onto the beige map of Thedas spread out on the table. Taking the Herald's maker between his fingers, he twirled it around for a moment whilst thinking. Sliding it across the paper, he placed it on Val Royeaux. The squad was still there, as they had delayed their return in order to meet with possible allies.

Cullen's caramel eyes scanned the map, at the dozens of markers spread across Ferelden. They had added new markers earlier in the day — adding soldiers to man the new watchtowers near Dennett's farm, and scouts to search for resources in the Southern Hinterlands. There were also green pins scattered across all of the map — representing tears that have yet to be closed. And they were only the ones that scouts had seen and reported, there could still be many more.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cullen thought of Ashlyn — who alone was responsible for closing all of those tears. His mind usually flickered to her a few times a day. He would notice how some of the greenery surrounding Haven looked like her scarf, or the honey he added into his porridge smelt like her. Chewing on his inner lip, Cullen wondered how somebody so angelic could be cursed with such an abominable life now.

Slamming his hands onto the table, Cullen shook his head. The markers shook at the movement, wobbling still after Cullen had stopped. "Stop it." He said out loud to himself. "There are more important things to think about then grey eyes and brown hair." Noticing the small marker in the far corner of the map, Cullen hung his head in shame. A group of his soldiers remained trapped in Fallow Mire, whilst Cullen remained at Haven, arguing with himself in his blue slippers.

* * *

The embers in the make-shift fire pit flickered orange and red, almost fading out. Reaching forward, Ashlyn poured the rest of the water from her leather pouch onto it, extinguishing the fire. She had woken up to watch the sunrise alone, sitting on the dewy grass in silence. It had been peaceful, but it did not resolve how she had been feeling the past two days.

Being in the Salon the night before had been hard. The chateau, the gowns, and gossiping had proven to be too much for her. Ashlyn felt anxious for the entire night, just waiting for her mother to round a corner of the elegant space, and disprove of her attire and attitude just as she did in her youth. First Enchanter Vivienne had even offered them real rooms to stay the night in, but Ashlyn had immediately rejected the offer. She was much more comfortable sleeping on the hard ground in the red cloth tent than feeling like having to relive every moment of her youth in a grand bedroom.

But the situation with the Templars was what had really caused a knot in her stomach. A lump started forming in her throat as she thought of the young men who stood in the full armour behind Lord Seeker Lucius. If it had not been for Kirkwall, her brothers could have been standing there instead.

Brushing the dirt off of her pants, Ashlyn got up from sitting on the ground. Placing her hands on the back of her head, she stretched her arms and back, staring out at the sweeping hills they would be riding home that day.

"You are up early." Cassandra half-smiled as she stumbled out of their tent. Her pixie black hair was tousled with sleep, the edges of it curling up. "Eager to return to Haven?"

"Maybe." Ashlyn turned, her long brown hair waving in the wind. "Can I ask you something?" She questioned.

Cassandra blinked, "Of course." Eyeing the other tents, Cassandra motioned Ashlyn to follow her. The two walked over to the bank, stopping short of the shore of the stream.

Ashlyn could feel her leather boots sinking softly in the sand. "How much do you know about my past, Cassandra?"

"Oh," She mumbled, "Well, I —"

Ashlyn explained, "Only a fool would allow someone to join their group without knowing who they really are. And you are no fool, Cassandra. Please, just tell me what you know."

"I did have Leliana and Josephine gather information about you,” Cassandra admitted, feeling somewhat guilty. "They told us that you were the youngest daughter of Bann Trevelyan. That you rejected joining the Chantry and templars. I do know about your brothers in Kirkwall. The rest of what we found out were just tavern rumours, about you abandoning your family and becoming a mercenary."

"I applaud your spymaster and ambassador. The information they've received is quite accurate… unfortunately. My brothers were killed during the Chantry Explosions, they were templars. I am the only child of Bann Trevelyan left, but I exiled myself and am no longer considered an heir. I was a mercenary, before this. That's why I was at the Conclave, I was hired as protection." After listing the facts about her self, Ashlyn turned her back to Cassandra and looked out at the small stream. "You all know this about me? What about the Commander? Varric and Solas?"

"I cannot vouch for the other two, but Cullen sat in the meeting, yes." Cassandra folded her hands in front of her.

"And it is true that you recruited him in Kirkwall, while he was a Knight-Captain?"

"Yes." She said solemnly. Cassandra has been waiting for this moment of realization from Ashlyn.

"He was there. He could have known my brothers, trained them. He could have seen them die." Ashlyn finally turned around to face Cassandra, her face was contorted with pain.

"Cullen does not like to dwell on what happened in Kirkwall. It broke him, Herald. If he mentioned it, it must have been in passing — "

Ashlyn growled, "That was not his information for him to hold over me. None of you told me. Here I am running around the countryside with strangers, yet you all know my deepest secrets and say nothing."

Cassandra objected, "How could we? You are so defensive about anything that reminds you of your past. If we are just strangers, how can I ask you about something so personal —"

Ashlyn interrupted her again. "I have pledged my life to your cause, and to you. Do not forget who fought at your side in chains, that you placed open me. Do I not deserve honesty?" She asked, her eyes were dejected.

Cassandra stood in silence, not knowing what to say.

Turning on her heel, Ashlyn began to walk away from the shore. Cassandra slowly followed her, watching as Ashlyn dove into their tent and gathered her things.

As she emerged, she spoke again. "I'm riding alone today." Sliding the leather straps of her sheaths onto her back, Ashlyn marched towards the horses before Cassandra could object.

Varric and Solas crawled out of their tent just as Ashlyn and her horse strode down the hillside. The mane of the horse and Ashlyn's flickering hair danced together wildly in the wind. The three companions watched in silence until she disappeared beyond the horizon line.

"Did we just stand here and do nothing as our only hope ran away?" Varric asked, raising a bushy eyebrow to the Seeker.

"She isn't running away. She is going to Haven…I hope."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 6**

Three horses charged down the hillside towards Haven. White puffs of snow were being kicked up from behind, making the trio look like an avalanche, charging towards the small village. Steering their horses, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas slowed the horses down as they approached the stables.

A sigh of relief escaped Cassandra when she saw Ashlyn’s ebony horse calmly resting in the stables. “How long ago did she get here?” She asked horse master Dennett, as she got off of her horse.

“A few hours ago. Didn’t say a word to me, just parked her horse and left.” Dennett shrugged, as he grabbed the reigns of Cassandra’s horse.

“Well, at least she’s here. Let’s go deal with the storm.” She grimaced, before trudging through the gates of Haven. “I’ll come find you after the meeting with the Council, go rest.”

“Gladly!” Varric shouted as he ran towards the inn, his short legs moving as fast as they could after a long day of riding.

Solas eyed Ashlyn’s cabin, “Human emotions are… confusing.” He said, before disappearing.

Cassandra prepared herself to knock on the wooden, cabin door. Just as her knuckles tapped the surface, she heard a quiet thump behind her causing her to jump. Ashlyn was standing in the snow, her face blank. Cassandra looked up at the roof and noticed the footprints — Ashlyn had leaped off of it. “Was that really necessary?”

Ashlyn did not reply, but instead turned on her heel and began marching towards the Chantry. Cassandra sighed before following her.

She had noticed Cullen’s absence out on the field, and after peering into Leliana's empty tent realized that the Council must already be gathered in the Chantry. The grand doors creaked as the silent pair walked in. It was dim inside, only a few of the candles wicks were flickering and many curtains had been drawn.

“It’s good you’ve returned,” A voice spoke from a shadow, “We heard of your encounter.” Josephine stepped out into the hallway, the sunlight trickling in through the topmost window hitting her face. Clearly, the ambassador had been spending too much time with the spymaster.

Cassandra’s brows furrowed, “You heard?”

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course.” Leliana and Cullen appeared together, walking down the intricate red carpet lining the hall.

Crossing his arm across his wide chest, Cullen spoke, “It’s a shame that the templars have abandoned their senses, as well as the capital.”

“At least we know the Chantry is no longer a threat to us.” Ashlyn stared Cullen down, her eyes piercing. Cullen met her stare, his mouth slightly agape before shifting his look away. Cassandra chewed the inside of her lip.

Josephine flicked her emerald quill in the air as she spoke, “Yes, and we have the opening we need to approach the templars and the mages.”

“Do we?” Cassandra started pacing the hall, causing the group to move with her. “Lord Seeker Lucious is not the man I remember.”

Leliana agreed, “True. He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.” Her face was etched with worry.

Cullen shook his head, bewildered. “We must look into it. I’m certain not everyone in the order will support the Lord Seeker.” He defended.

“Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe instead,” Josephine suggested.

The Commander shook his head, his hands flying up. “You think the mage rebellion is more united. It could be ten times worst!”

Ashlyn finally snapped, “Or you could stop bickering and make a decision!” Her mouth was a stern line, her nostrils flared.

“I agree.” Cassandra pushed her shoulders back, standing up a little straighter as she sided with Ashlyn.

Josephine lowered her clipboard and voice, attempting to calm the room. “We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.”

Cassandra pursed her lips, “They are powerful, Ambassador. But more desperate than you realize.”

Ashlyn scoffed, “So? It’ll be dangerous. I’ve been in danger since I walked out of the Fade.”

“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”

The raven-haired ambassador interrupted Cassandra, “The same could be said about the Templars”

Cullen nodded sternly, his shoulders set wide. “True enough. Right now, I’m not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely.”

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places. That’s something you can help with.” Cassandra looked to Ashlyn, who seemed much too preoccupied with her leather boots.

Josephine scribbled something on her clipboard quickly, before looking back up at the group. “In the meantime, we should consider other options.” She raised her eyebrows quickly, before turning on her heel and swaying into her office.

Shifting forward, Cullen nervously eyed Ashlyn. Her piercing stares had made the Commander uneasy — like a child waiting to be scorned by his mother. But Leliana had waved Ashlyn over, causing her to rush right past him.

Pulling his cloak high around his cheeks, Cullen followed Cassandra outside. The cold, brisk wind hit him in the face, causing his cheeks to turn rosy. Reaching out a gloved hand, he gently grabbed onto the Seeker’s elbow. “Cassandra, wait.”

She turned around, short pieces of her hair were dancing in the wind. “Cullen?” She asked, looking slightly annoyed.

He gulped at her stern face, apparently, the women of the Inquisition were just ticked off today. “Oh, just…” He stumbled over his words, “Do you know why Ashlyn was trying to cut me with her eyes in there?”

Cassandra closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “It seems,” But she cut herself off. “Actually, it seems that you will find out soon enough.” She pointed behind Cullen towards the opening doors of the Chantry. She had already started trudging to the inn before he had turned around to meet Ashlyn.

“Can we have a word?” She asked, in an eerily polite tone. Her face was still blank, as it had been in the Chantry just moments before.

“Of course,” Cullen responded, putting his hands behind his back, lacing his fingers together. They twitched nervously, as he waited for her to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was quiet.

Cullen furrowed his blonde brows together in confusion. “Tell you what?”

“That you knew… About my brothers.” Her eyes were big, as she waited for him to answer.

Biting his lip, Cullen hesitated. His eyes searched around Haven, avoiding her stare. “I — I didn’t know what to say.”

Ashlyn took a deep breath through her nose, attempting to control herself. “That was not your information to hold over me.”

Cullen started to defend himself, “My intention wasn’t to keep it from you, or use it against you… I just didn’t know how to approach —”

She interrupted him, her voice finally exploding. “They were my brothers!! Not only did you know they were dead, and never once acknowledge that. But you were there! You witnessed what killed them. For all I know you knew them, you trained and led them!”

“I didn’t. I didn’t know who they were before Josephine told me. I would never intentionally try to harm you like that, I promise.” Cullen’s voice was starting to waver.

“Your word doesn’t mean a lot right now.” Ashlyn snarled, before turning on her heel and marching away towards her cabin.

“Please, wait!” Cullen pleaded, chasing after her through the snow.

“For what?!” She growled, slamming the wooden door of the cabin open, “An apology? Or better yet, maybe you can tell me all my other secrets that you know.” Her grey eyes were blazing as she haphazardly stuffed various objects into the leather sack in her hands. “For a moment I actually thought Haven could be a start, a home. I thought the Inquisition had given that to me. But now I see it was just a guise for all the spying and manipulation.”

She made her way to leave, but Cullen blocked the door frame. “That is not what the Inquisition stands for. You know that… you’ve said that.” His golden eyes were flickering, his voice sounded hurt.

“The Inquisition has treated me like a pawn.” She raised her face to his until they were only inches apart. Cullen stared at the white scar that contorted on her flared nose. “I am the errand boy for the Ambassador. I am the face of the rebellion and a name of opposition against the Chantry. But really, all I am to the Inquisition, to you, is this.” Ashlyn raised up her bare hand between them, revealing the fluorescent mark. “I see that now.” Slamming her shoulder into his, Ashlyn left the cabin in a fury.

Cullen persisted. “You’re wrong! I admit I made an indiscretion by avoiding talking about Kirkwall. But I’ve come to know you. You are not just the Herald anymore, I — ”

She whipped around, her dark hair swirling around as she turned. “You know nothing about me. You may know the name of my parents and the state of my brothers. But you do not know me.”

“I can say the same!” He snarled through gritted teeth, finally pushed over the edge. “Yes, I was briefed about you. Yes, I was a templar. And yes, I was in Kirkwall during the Chantry Explosion. But you have no idea what demons I deal with because of that. You are not the only one with bad memories.”

Cullen’s hard lip softened as she moved her face closer to his again. “You see,” Her voice was a hurt whisper, “The difference is that I didn’t know any of those things until you told me, in confidence. I earned that knowledge of you, through trust. And even if I hadn’t I would have said otherwise.”

Cullen heard the clamp of her teeth as her mouth formed a hard line. He said nothing until she turned to rush down the cobble steps leading out of Haven. “Where do you think you are going?!” He bellowed as he followed her down the stairs.

“To do what you won’t,” Ashlyn growled, without turning back to look at him. Then she disappeared through the gate, slamming it with a deafening thud.

Gritting his white teeth hard, Cullen marched in the opposite direction. Taking the steps back into Haven two at a time, his breath was sharp and harsh. He noticed the red-headed dwarf keeping warm by the fire at the top of the stairs. “You!” He barked, pointing a gloved finger at Varric. “Go after her!” Cullen demanded.

“Go after who? Freckles?” Varric guessed, “I heard your little domestic squabble. Trouble in paradise?”

“This isn’t a joke Varric. The Herald cannot be galloping around Thedas right now.”

“I didn’t say it was. Do you really think chasing after her is such a good idea? I’ve spent a lot of time with her and she’s kind of a firecracker. Maybe she needs the time alone.”

“If anything happens to her, our fate is sealed. I would go after her myself, but I would probably just make matters worse.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sure it’s every woman’s dream to have a ginger dwarf chasing them on horseback anyway.”

“Take Solas with you, but give her an hours head start. We will give her a little space to unwind. You’ll just have to follow her trail.”

“What about Chuckles?”

“Cassandra? She needs the rest, I know you do too. But she has not stopped moving since this all started. The First Enchanter and that Red Jenny haven’t arrived either though. It will just have to be you two.”

“Do you have any idea of where Ashlyn could be headed?”

“To do what I won’t apparently. I’m assuming she wants to go to the Fallow Mire.”

* * *

The sky was hazy with rain, the mist setting in between enormous pine trees. Water dripped off of the lush green plants, the leaves rustling as the three horses and their riders grazed by. Their heads and hair were shiny with rain, long abandoning their drenched shawls and scarves. Droplets clung to the thick lashes of Ashlyn, and with every blink, they would plunk down her cheek running onto her lip. Glancing back she eyed her companions trotting behind her.

Varric and Solas had caught up with her just as she had left the mountain trail leading to Crestwood. She had heard them much before then, but she was much more content with watching them trying to catch up with her. They had ridden in silence until they reached the Stormcoast. The incessant rain did not help the mood of the travelers.

Ashlyn noticed the amber tents of the Inquisition, nestled in a clearing of trees. “Over here,” She directed, steering the reigns of her horse towards the camp. Dismounting her horse, she grabbed its reins and handed them to an awaiting scout. Stretching her face up, she eyed the grey swirling sky. Stormcoast’s name was fitting.

“Now what to do we do Freckles?” Varric asked, shuddering in the rain. The dwarf and elf followed Ashlyn to the ridge of the dewy hill. The trio peered down it.

“Hire them.” Ashlyn pointed a gloved finger, down to the bleak beachfront. A fight had broken out, the sounds of clashing swords and fireballs could be heard. “And it looks like they could use the assistance of the oh-so-noble Inquisition.” A devilish smiled spread across her face, as she ripped her daggers out of their braces and began sprinting down the steep hill.

Solas let out a loud sigh, before slamming his staff into the forest floor and fade-stepping to follow Ashlyn. The spell erupted in blue light and left a large gust of wind. Varric stood alone for a moment, watching his comrades racing towards the fight. Shrugging, he grabbed the crossbow off of his back and began taking aim as his short legs began walking steadily down the hill. The group slowed their pace as they drew closer to the battle.

Breathing heavily, Ashlyn perched on top of a rock at the foot of the hill watching the fight. “Venatori,” she hissed back to her companions. Silently pointing, she gave Solas and Varris their targets. Ashlyn’s knuckles cracked as she tightened her hold on her daggers, feeling the tick of their points against her forearms. Varric’s bolt whizzing past was Ashlyn’s cue. Lunging off of the rock, she silently landed behind an unexpecting Venatori. Just as Varric’s bolt sunk into another Venatori, Ashlyn’s turned around to see where the attack came from. Without any hesitation, she drove her daggers up and under their ribcage before releasing.

“Haha!” Someone boomed, deep within the fight. “It’s the Inquisition!” It was a colossal Qunari’s voice that was thundering over the sounds of the rain, ocean and the fight.

Ashlyn’s mouth went agape as she saw the Qunari carelessly swing his double-headed ax through the air, crashing it into the side of a Venatori. His arms were like trunks, muscles rippling as he fought. His thick torso was bare, his grey skin was slick with rain. He wasn’t even wearing any armour — the only protective leather he had on was a thick belt wrapped around his hips and a shoulder brace. Raindrops dripped off of his black horns, the water running onto his face.

A blur of ice caused Ashlyn to snap back to reality, blinking the heavy rain out of her lashes. Solas had frozen a Venatori, “Herald, now!” He screeched, before taking aim at another. Sprinting towards the man-shaped block of ice, Ashlyn slammed her daggers into the ice shattering it. Solas and her had developed this combination back in the Hinterlands fighting fire mages — it was extremely efficient. Shaking small pieces of ice out of her hair and hood, she slinked towards Iron Bull. He had drawn most of the Venatori to himself and was closing in on the five Venatori circling him. One armed with a mace went to strike the Qunari’s back. But Ashlyn had slid her knife out of her leg brace and hurled it towards him. The blade struck him through the white hood, sinking into his forehead. Pushing her daggers back up against her forearms, Ashlyn rushed to Iron Bull to finish the rest off. As she approached, she slid on the wet, crumbling sand to avoid the large, sweeping blow of his double-headed ax as he took another Venatori out. Rolling back onto her feet, she pushed a preying rogue off of her and into the path of Iron Bull, who took his boot and kicked them away like an annoying pest. They slammed into a boulder, Ashlyn heard the sickening sound of bones breaking before the body went limp.

There was one Venatori left, who had also just made that same realization. Panic struck his face as he began scrambling away from Iron Bull and Ashlyn. The Qunari turned his face to the human’s, their eyes meeting for the first time. A wicked smile spread across his face, “The pleasure is yours.” He sank to the ground on one knee, waving his hand to the fleeing Venatori who was struggling to run in the wet sand. With a simple nod, Ashlyn spun her daggers in her palms before she began sprinting towards Iron Bull. She leaped up onto his tense, solid leg and used it to catapult herself towards the runaway. She landed on him with a thud, sinking the Venatori into the sand. Without hesitation, Ashlyn sank her dagger swiftly into the soft part of their head. Blood began pooling, transforming the pristine white hoods of the Venatori into a deep red.

“Chargers, stand down!” Iron Bull bellowed as he watched Ashlyn stand back up.

Ashlyn attempted to brush away the wet sand stuck to her leather pants, but with the rain, blood, and sweat it was just making a bigger mess. Gathering her two onyx daggers in one hand, she searched for her favourite knife among the dead Venatori.

“Krem, how’d we do?” Ashlyn heard Iron Bull ask. Krem. Ashlyn remembered the name. It had been the young lieutenant who had approached her at Haven. He had been standing at the front gates, waiting to speak to somebody, when she had arrived alone from Val Royeaux.

“Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.” Krem replied, sheathing his sword as he approached his leader.

“That’s what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up, then break out the casks.” The pair exchanged a nod before Iron Bull turned to find Ashlyn again. She had just finished rinsing her blades off in the ocean, speaking in low whispers to Varric and Solas as the Qunari approached them.

“So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it.” He raised his dark brow. “Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

“Iron Bull, I presume,” Ashlyn stated with a smirk.

“Yeah, the horns really give it away.” He chuckled, as he sat on a rock. He waited for Ashlyn and the others to join him, but they remained standing. “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

Krem was marching back towards them, his boots sinking slightly in the sand as he walked. “Good to see you again. Throat cutters are done, Chief.”

“Already? Have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.” Iron Bull let out a booming laugh.

Krem shrugged, “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?” He left them again, to rejoin the rest of the group.

“So… you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.” He eyed up their new armour, engraved with the Inquisition emblem.

Glancing at Varric and Solas, Ashlyn replied. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

Putting this hands on his knees, Iron Bull stood up. “They are. But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard. I’m your man. Whatever it is — demons, dragons? The bigger the better.” He flashed an excited smile, but it quickly faded into a serious line. “And there’s one other thing. Might be useful… Might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Ashlyn furrowed her dark brows, “They’re a Qunari organization, right? The equivalent of their guards and city watch?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “I’d go closer to ‘spies’, but yeah, that’s them. Or, well, us. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge. And send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

“You’re a Qunari spy, and you just… told me?” Ashlyn scratched her forehead.

He met her eyes, “Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are,” Ashlyn remarked, uncrossing her arms from around her torso.

“From something called the Inquisition?” Iron Bull let out a laugh. “I’d have been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

After her fight with Cassandra and Cullen, that kind of honesty was exactly what Ashlyn needed. “All right, you’re in.”

“Excellent!” Iron Bull squeezed his grey hands into fists in excitement. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Moaning and whining could be heard from the Chargers who had just sat down. “What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up, with axes!”

Iron Bull rolled his eyes. “Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.” He teased Krem. “We’ll meet you back at Haven.” He said as he turned to go to his group.

“Actually,” Ashlyn grabbed onto his shoulder before he could leave. “I was hoping you would join me now. The rest of your company can keep their casks open, make their way to Haven tomorrow?”

“What, need my protection already?” Iron Bull grinned, eyeing Ashlyn up.

“Something like that. Some Inquisitions soldiers are being held captive, and we are going to go get them.”

“I’m in. I’ll grab my things.” He replied in his husky voice.

Ashlyn turned to Varric and Solas, with a sigh of relief. “Great, now we can get out of this insufferable rain.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 7**

At the sound of flapping wings, the Spymaster slinked out of her white tent, her gloved fingers trailing on the fabric causing it to ripple. Instinctively she straightened her forearm out and an ebony bird gently landed on her, its talons wrapping around her forearm. Using her knuckle, Leliana stroked the Raven’s beak softly, before she took the scroll off of its leg. Quickly unraveling the scroll and reading it over, the Nightingale pecked the Raven on the head before sending it off.

Her purple cape swept behind her as she strode into the Chantry, it’s large ornate doors already open. Raised voices could be heard as soon as Leliana entered.

“But what exactly did you say to the Herald, Cullen?” Josephine emphasized her words, attempting to get an answer.

“Nothing!” Cullen replied quickly. It was the day after Ashlyn fled Haven, and the Council was anxiously waiting for any information on her whereabouts. The Commander shook his curls in exasperation. “Ugh, she was upset about what I didn’t say. That I never told her that I knew about her brothers’ deaths and my presence in Kirkwall at the time.”

“She is cross with the entire Inquisition Cullen, not just you.” Cassandra stepped in, “She feels betrayed.” The Seeker had also felt slightly let down, as she was not instructed to chase after the Herald. Cullen had explained it was out of concern for Cassandra’s health and well-being — that she had needed to rest, and recover the most out of all of the Inquisition. She had accepted it but was not satisfied.

“Yet I am the one she sought out to scold.” He pressed a gloved finger into his own chest. “I am the one she ran away from.”

“You are not to blame, for any of this. We all should have used more discretion, for the Herald’s sake.” Cassandra countered.

“Either way, our only hope for closing the Breach is gallivanting across Thedas, cursing my name, who-knows-where!” Cullen snarled, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

“I know where,” Leliana spoke up, startling the group. She waved the small scroll in her hands, “My scouts reported that she has left the Stormcoast, with Solas and Varric.”

Cassandra let out of a sigh of relief. “Thank the maker.”

“It was a very short visit, as she only traveled there to hire a mercenary group — the Chargers. Their leader, the Iron Bull has joined the Herald’s personal squad and they are traveling again.”

Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose. “The Chargers?! They had sent me many proposals, but I had rejected them. The Inquisition does not have the funds right now to employ such a group.”

“A bold move by the Herald. I respect it.” Cassandra’s smirk received a glare from the Ambassador.

“So now the Herald is traveling with a full squad. Where are they going?” Cullen inquired, chewing the inside of his lip.

“My scouts report that they are nearing… the Fallowmire.” Leliana’s stated in her wispy voice.

The Commander’s knuckles cracked as he made a fist. “I knew it. She is going after my missing soldiers.”

“She said she was going to do what you wouldn’t, right?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cullen nodded, his jaw clenched. “They are walking into a trap. The Fallowmire is a snare in itself!” His lip snarled in frustration. “They are not prepared for this.”

“The Iron Bull is a Qunari. He will be a great aid for them.”

“But she is angry. She is being impulsive. Emotional. That could get her killed.” He hissed.

Cassandra intervened, “You have yet to see the Herald fight Commander. Anger does her well on the battlefield.”

“We had better hope so,” Cullen muttered, rubbing his brows roughly. “Or we are all dead.”

* * *

The Qunari’s gray skin was pulled tight across his face, his lips spread out into a deadly smile. His cheeks were actually sore, from laughing and grinning so much the past few days. The Iron Bull’s new found company had proven to be more entertaining than he had bargained for. The red-haired dwarf, Varric, was quicker than a whip and he quite enjoyed his new nickname, ‘Tiny’. The mage, Solas, was not a chatterbox but Bull found his derision of humans amusing. The Herald, or Ashlyn as she insisted on being called, was certainly the best though. The pair had been in stitches for most of their travels, sharing stories of old jobs and fellow mercenaries. She was sharp and curious, beautiful and fierce. Both a lion and lamb. The Iron Bull was certainly interested in where his travels with the Inquisition would lead.

Now, he found himself in a crumbling tower swinging his double-headed ax at Avvar, with a shit-eating grin still plastered to his face. His heavy boots climbed over loose stones and rubble, as he neared the leader of the camp. The four companions had proven to be quite a good team. Varric and Solas were lingering behind, using a deadly combination of freezing spells with shattering bolts. They hid in the shadows, evading the deadly swing from the Avvar leader. A flicker shot by the Iron Bull, as Ashlyn slid across the floor. The Avvar buckled as she sliced the back of his leathered legs with her dagger. As he stumbled, Iron Bull jumped at the opportunity and geared up for another blow.

Grabbing a discarded steel knife off of a body, Ashlyn twisted around quickly before sending the blade twirling through the air. It struck the chest of an archer, who had been in mid-draw with their bow aimed at the Iron Bull. Smirking, Ashlyn watched the body topple over itself down the stairs. But her smile quickly faded as she let out a loud grunt, as she felt the cold sensation of metal on her side quickly being replaced by the warming sensation of blood. Gritting her white teeth, she whipped around with newfound anger. The strike was from the longsword of a reaver, who had frozen the moment he laid eyes on Ashlyn’s face — her gray eyes were ablaze and nostrils flared. Her onyx dagger soon met his chest, slipping in under the swordsman’s ribcage. All that was left was the Avvar leader.

Iron Bull and the leader were still going at it, their double-headed axes clashing together like thunder. Varric and Solas had emerged from the shadows of the pillars, carefully taking aim as they hurtled spells and bolts towards the enemy. The Qunari’s attention flickered to Ashlyn, who was slinking behind the Avvar leader unnoticed. With a nod of approval, Iron Bull held up his ax in front of him, defending himself for another heavy swing. The Herald used the moment of distraction, to sprint and leap up onto the unsuspecting Avvar’s back. She gripped on to the leather straps of his armour, and raised her dagger to the front of his throat. With a quick motion, she slit it before leaping off with such a force that the large body thumped loudly to the floor, scattering the loose stones around them.

Heavy breath was all that could be heard for a moment, before Iron Bull let out a booming laugh. “Let’s do that again!” He wiped the sweat off of his face with the back of his grey hand.

“Is everyone okay?” Varric called, as he climbed over a large pile of rubble.

“All things considered, yes,” Solas replied, staring down at the Avvar bodies by his feet.

Ashlyn looked over her comrades, who other than being sweaty, dusty and extremely tired, seemed unharmed. She felt for her own side, which was sticky with blood and bit her lip. She pulled the leather belt she usually wore lazily around her hips up higher, tightening it around her waist. The pressure caused her to gasp out in pain, causing Varric to worry. “You alright Freckles?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She assured him, smiling faintly.” Let’s just find where they have been keeping our men.” She promised herself that she would look after the wound, once she knew that the Commander’s soldiers were okay.

The trio of companions followed the Herald across the room, stumbling over the debris and bodies until they reached a bolted wooden door. Ashlyn expertly pried the lock off, before swinging the door open.

“Herald of Andraste!” They had found them. The small room was filled with over a dozen Inquisition soldiers, huddled around together on the floor. One of the men jumped to his feet.

“Is everyone alright?” Ashlyn asked worrying, grabbing on to a soldier.

His eyes widen at her touch, and he gulped as he spoke. “Yes, your worship. The injured need some rest … but we can return on our own.”

Her dark eyebrows furrowed together, “Nonsense, we will all return to Haven together.” She bent down onto her knees to look at the soldiers who were laying on the floor, crippled in pain with blood staining the Inquisition’s colours. Ashlyn reached to her belt loop to find a health potion but found it was empty. “How many potions do we have left?”

“Two,” Varric replied, as he was the only one who had some leftover from their travels and battles the past few days.

“Do you know any healing spells?” One of the soldiers asked Solas, sounding hopeful.

Solas looked down to the ground, embarrassed. “I… do not. I am sorry.”

They gave the last of their two potions to the most injured of the soldiers and gathered them up. Iron Bull carried a soldier who was slipping in and out, while the other was wedged between Ashlyn and his comrade as he limped out of the crumbling building. “We passed a cart, on our way up here. You men can rest as our horses pull it.” Ashlyn said to the men following behind her in a hurry.

“Thank you Herald, for saving us. We… we weren’t sure what we would do.”

For once Ashlyn did not grimace at the title but instead gave them a weak smile. “Of course, we will never let our people down.” She tried to sound confident in her words, but her stomach felt queasy. If only the men she had saved knew that she had originally come here to spite the commander.

Two soldiers behind her spoke to each other in hushed whispers. “I can’t believe the Herald came for us.”

“I told you she’d come!” The other said triumphantly. Ashlyn suddenly felt even worse.

After recruiting the Sky Walker to the Inquisition, the group made their way back through the twists and traps of the Fallow Mire. It was a slow process, but Ashlyn let out a loud sigh of relief when they got to the Inquisition camp on the edge of the bog. The two agents manning the station came sprinting up to the large group vibrating.

“Herald, you rescued them!” One let out, sounding surprised. “Andraste’s breath!”

“Thank you, for the vote of confidence,” Ashlyn mumbled to herself, before continuing to speak to the agents. “We will need your cart for requisitions, and as many health potions as you have.”

“Of course, we will tether your horses to the cart immediately. But I am afraid that neither of us are herbalists. We have no potions left.”

When Ashlyn let out a curse, the agent began to apologize profusely. “No, no. It is not your fault. I know a few tricks that should help them along our journey. Please send word to Haven that we are returning with the missing soldiers.” She commanded, before turning on her heel to grab the horses.

“You’re actually going to send an official report of your return to Haven?” Varric asked, sounding perplexed.

“Yes.” She answered sternly, as she looked towards the edge of the water. Her nimble fingers grazed through the bushes, plucking out green leaves here and there. Ashlyn emerged with two handfuls of elfroot leaves. “Tell the men to chew these softly, they won’t heal them but they will numb the pain.”

Varric nodded, before taking the leaves and handing them out to the soldiers. They were all piled high in the wooden cart that the Inquisition agents had wheeled forward for them. Ashlyn wandered over to her own horse, grabbing on to the edge of the saddle. She muffled a groan as she straddled the animal — her side throbbing painfully. Tugging at her tight leather belt, she looked down at the bloody gash that lay just above her hip. With a wince, she moved the band back around the wound. Shoving a few elfroot leaves into the pouch of her cheek, Ashlyn watched as a raven glided to the north towards Haven.

* * *

The navy sky was twinkling with white stars, the light shining down over top of the grassy hills. The soldiers were squished in together in the creaking cart, being pulled by Varric and Solas’ beige horses. Everyone was riding in silence, with most of the men dozing off hazily whilst the squad kept their eyes wide — scanning the horizon. One of the men who was still up, had his feet dangling off of the back of the cart. He watched them sway back and forth with the bumping of their travels before he tempted a look behind him at the Herald. She was riding just in front of the group, trotting slowly in order to not get too far ahead. She was mesmerizing — her silky hair was waving in the wind, and even from far away the lines of her waist and hips could be seen. Suddenly, there was a chuckle and the soldier flashed his gaze back forward.

The Iron Bull was smiling at him, having noticed his gaze. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

The soldier’s face went red, but he nodded. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

The Qunari raised his eyebrows, agreeing. “Beautiful, but deadly. A dangerously attractive combination in women, my friend.” He eyed Ashlyn’s silhouette ahead of him and steered his reigns towards her. As he approached, he watched as she quickly changed her posture and attempted to sit up a little straighter. As he greeted her, he noticed her weak smile. “What’s going on?” He asked when he noticed a shimmer on her hand.

With a sigh, Ashlyn held her hand out into the white moonlight — it was red with blood. As quickly as she had shown it to Iron Bull, she had it snapped back to her side gritting her teeth in pain. Abruptly, he reached over and tugged on the reigns of Ashlyn’s horse bringing them both to a stop. “Stop the cart!” He bellowed, before jumping off of his mount. He ignored the mumbles of confusion from Varric and Solas, as he carefully moved Ashlyn’s hand off of her side to look at the wound. “Vashedan…” He muttered as he watched the blood start to ooze slightly from the lack of pressure. Pressing his gray fingers to it, he met Ashlyn’s eyes. “Did this happen in the Avvar camp?” He demanded.

“Yes,” She breathed, her eyebrows furrowed together.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Iron Bull barked furiously. “You’re an idiot to think you would have made it to Haven okay.”

“I didn’t have any other choice.” She hissed, her eyes turning icy. “It was either heal them or me. They are our men. I would never sacrifice their lives for my own. And I know you would never ask the Chargers that either.”

He eyed the ground, “You are right. But this was a risk. This is a risk. You are the Herald — we are all dead without you.”

“That was a risk I was willing to take,” Ashlyn said, her voice unwavering.

“Solas!” Iron Bull called, “Come take a look at this.” He continued to press his fingers against the sword wound until the elf had appeared. “I know you said you can’t do any healing spells, but we need to do something about this.” He lifted his fingers slightly, revealing Ashlyn’s bloody side.

“Oh, I…” Solas seemed lost for words for a moment. “Yes, to stop the bleeding perhaps. It will be uncomfortable, however.” He looked concerned, as he stared at the blood now covering Iron Bull’s hands. “Shall we try that?”

Ashlyn nodded, before tensing herself up in defence. She let out a grunt as she felt the burn of magic waving over her side. Looking down she watched as a layer of ice crystals formed on her side, sealing the wound. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted herself on her horse — feeling the tugging of her skin against the ice. “Ahh,” She let out a yell, before pursing her lips tight to muffle it. Noticing her companions staring up at her worriedly, she let out a breathy, “I’m okay. Thank you, Solas."

"We have to hurry back. The spell can cause ice burns, hypothermia. It will stop the bleeding temporarily, but..." Solas trailed off.

"Then we ride. Fast." The Iron Bull said through gritted teeth. Solas nodded before turning on his heel back towards Varric and the cartload of soldiers. "Are you ok to ride alone?"

Ashlyn nodded, wrapping her scarf around her shoulders to shield off the cold. As she shivered, she realized that the cold was not from the temperature.

"It would be better if you rode with me, but we need to save our horse's energy. It will be too much weight. I'll be right next to you though." He climbed onto his mount, before signalling towards Varric and Solas.

The pair began to ride together, Iron Bull glancing over to the Herald constantly and Ashlyn hunched over clutching her reigns. "I may be new to the Inquisition," Iron Bull yelled over the loud trotting of hooves, "But I already know how important you are. You need to realize that too." The group kicked up their speed as they descended a hill, the horizon starting to lighten as twilight began to near its end.

* * *

Haven was coloured an orange-pink as the sun began to creep up behind skyline. The sandy tents scattered in the snow in front of the gates were rustling with a slight breeze. Sleepy soldiers crawled out of them, the sugary scent of cooking porridge waking them up. The groggy men began to form a line in front of the bubbling black pot, sitting on the flickering fire. The Commander stood near the front of the line, whispering good morning to his soldiers as the clasped their breakfast to their chest for warmth. The wind snarled Cullen’s curly blonde hair, as he looked out at the frozen lake of Haven. He blinked himself back to reality as one of the Inquisition’s cooks, Sisennia, pushed a bowl into his hands. An embarrassed smile spread across his face, as he realized he was caught daydreaming. Thanking her, Cullen moved to sit next to his lieutenant.

“I think we could warm up with hand to hand, this morning Commander?” The young man asked nervously, stirring his own breakfast repeatedly.

“Yes, that sounds good,” Cullen replied absently, as he sat down on the log. He shovelled a spoonful of the milky grains into his mouth, as he stared out over the lake. He could hear the buzzing of words around him but was not taking any of them in. The Commander had found himself distracted these past few days, feeling completely overwhelmed with guilt and worry. Staring over the frozen Tundra that was Haven, his mind flickered between his soldiers who needed more training in order to ensure their survival and the message they had received from their scouts in the Fallowmire. They had reported that all missing soldiers were accounted for, and the Herald was bringing them back to Haven immediately. But he was still worried for their safety.

He absently chewed the sugary oats, when a hand on his shoulder shook him back to reality. Blinking, he looked over to his lieutenant sitting next to him, whose eyes were wide. “Commander, look!” A gloved finger pointed out across the snowy hills of Haven. “A horse with no rider!” A blur of black stood stark against the winter scene, as the horse cascaded towards Haven.

Cullen’s heart went up into his throat, his bowl slipping out of his fingers and falling onto the floor. Instinctively, he pushed himself up and started to trudge through the snow. The tail of his cloak flickered around him as he moved faster and faster towards the horse. “Commander!!” He heard one of his soldiers call, but he ignored them. Wrapping the fur of his cloak closer around him, he shielded himself from the snowy wind coming down the side of the hill.

The creature reached Cullen first, neighing and kicking up its hooves anxiously. He recognized it as Ashlyn’s, it’s glossy black mane tossing around. The Commander raised his cold hands up to the mount, grabbing onto the bridle and tugging it gently. The horse calmed for a moment, it’s brown eyes still wide. “Bring me to her,” Cullen whispered to it before stepping up onto the horse and straddling it. Almost immediately the horse took off again, barreling up the steep white hill it had just come down.

The horse and its rider kicked up tufts of snow as they weaved in and out of trees and stones, and splashing up icy cold water as they rode over a stream. Cullen’s breath was puffy and white in front of him, as the horse took him into the unknown. It struck him that he was completely weaponless if something were to happen, as his sword and shield were still sitting next to the field tent back in Haven. He prayed they would not find trouble.

As they came out into a clearing, Cullen spotted another rider. Digging his heels into his own mount, they began speeding towards them. The closer the other rider got, the farther up Cullen’s heart climbed in his throat. The silhouette was all he could see — large and muscular with horns. Something was being carried in their arms, cradled to them. “Makers, no.” He had already dismounted before the horse had even come to a stop, as he ran over to the other rider. “Is she alive?!” Cullen demanded, looking up at the Qunari who remained on his horse.

“Yes, for now.” Iron Bull looked Cullen up and down, noticing his armour. “Are you the Inquisition’s Commander?”

“I, uh, yes.” He replied, flustered. He was distracting by Ashlyn’s flopping head, how her brown hair was waving off of the side of the Asaarash horse. “You are the Iron Bull?”

He nodded. “I sent Ashlyn’s horse ahead, to try and get some attention. She needs a healer, now. How far is Haven from here?” Cullen watched as the Qunari tightened his grip around Ashlyn, steadying her.

“A five-minute ride.” The Commander remounted Ashlyn’s horse, grabbing the reigns with tight knuckles. He looked back to the Iron Bull.

“Your men are with Solas and Varric, they aren’t too far behind us. I can manage Ashlyn if you want to go to them.”

Cullen felt torn in two, thinking of his men trudging and suffering in the snow, after all they must have gone through in the Fallow Mire. But he stared at Ashlyn, awkwardly smushed in the crook of the Iron Bull’s large elbow. Her usual olive skin was turning pale and her eyes drooped shut. “I will see to my men later, they will understand. Besides, I don’t know how well Haven will react to a strange Qunari charging them on horseback with the Herald lying unconscious in his arms.”

Iron Bull let out a dry laugh, “Good call," Before he turned serious again. "Let's ride."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 8**

Adan sighed, shoving tiny vials back into his leather kit. The glass clinked together noisily as he clasped the bag shut. He flashed a look at Ashlyn, who was laying in bed injured. “You know my life used to be much more peaceful before I met you.”

Ashlyn’s grey eyes drooped down. “Aye, mine too.”

“Well, with the combined efforts of me and Mother Giselle you will be fine. Just don’t push it next time, yes?” He went for the door, before stopping. “Solas has been killing himself over mastering some healing spells. You’re squad really cares about you.”

Fidgeting in her bed, she nodded. “I know,” Her voice was low. “Thank you, Adan.”

Scratching his beard, he gave her a final nod before opening the cabin door. A chilly breeze rushed in, as he lingered at the door. Somebody else was standing outside, waiting to see the Herald.

The Commander’s nose was red and running from standing out in the snow. He gave Adan a sheepish smile, rubbing his hands together as he tried to use the friction to keep warm. “How is she?”

Adan rubbed his forehead with his free hand, the other gripping his bag. “Well, the stab wound is clean and stitched, her ice burn treated. Her arm will be in a sling, and she is slightly concussed from her fall. But considering she was stabbed, almost bled out, received a magic ice burn and fell off of her horse, she is doing remarkably well.”

“Maker’s breathe…” Cullen’s eyes flickered to the cabin, worrying about the person inside. “Is she resting? Can I see her?”

“Ask her yourself.” He shrugged, before stomping away in the snow. “I swear if I have to bring her back from the dead one more time…” The alchemist muttered under his breathe as he disappeared into the village of Haven.

Cullen apprehensively knocked on the door, before twisting the knob. He peered his head around the side of the door, an uneasy smile on his face. He took a breath, before speaking. “Can I come in?”

Adjusting herself on her bed, Ashlyn nodded him in. Leaning on her good arm, she watched as the Commander closed the door tight and wandered in. The chair from the desk screeched as he pulled it out and sat it next to her night table.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Tired, and cold. But Adan has supplied me well.” Ashlyn motioned to the pile of potions and ointments on her nightstand. “The stab wound and burn will be sore for a while, but I only have bruising from the fall.” She grimaced at her wrapped arm.

“That’s good.” The pair turned quiet, their eyes wandering around the cabin walls. Ashlyn eyed the Commander, who was wiggling his thumbs as he stared at the window. His blonde curls were looser today, the bags under his amber eyes darker than usual. He was without his armour, instead wearing simple trousers and a white linen shirt under his thick black cloak. Ashlyn swallowed hard as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I came here to thank you.”

Ashlyn furrowed her brows in confusion, “Thank me?”

“A dozen men are safe in Haven now because of you.” His gloved hand gestured outside of her cabin to the rest of the village. “You did something that we… I have been hesitating to do for weeks.”

Her thick brows furrowed together, “I only did it to spite you… to make you angry.”

Cullen shook his head, “You saved them.”

“My intentions were wrong.” Her eyes flickered away from his, staring down at her blanket. “I was being selfish.”

“Perhaps, that was your original intention when you went to the Fallowmire.” Ashlyn looked up at him as he said this, her eyes big. Quickly he added, “But that is not why you stayed. You did not take a blade to your side to spite me. Or sacrifice a much-needed potion to my men, instead of taking it to save yourself. Those are not the actions of a selfish person.” He watched as the Herald relaxd a little, her shoulders moving down as she sat lower in her bed.

She rolled herself over, so she was on to her good side. Her elbow propped up her head so she could look at the Commander. The room fell into silence again, but this time the pair stared at each other. Both of their fingers twitched anxiously, Cullen’s drumming on his knee and Ashlyn’s twirling into her brown blanket.

“I apologize for not telling you I knew.” The lump in Cullen’s throat raised a little, “I was protecting my feelings — my past. It was ignorant of me.”

She nodded, lowering her eyes, “I’m sorry too. I acted like a child. I can recognize now that the situation is much more complex than I thought.”

A breath escaped Cullen’s lips as he nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry about your brothers,” He said sincerely.

“I’m sorry about Kirkwall.”

A soft laugh escaped the Commander, “That’s a lot of apologies.”

A small smile appeared on Ashlyn’s face, “Can I ask you something?”

He raised his eyebrows with a nod.

“Why did you give me your cabin?”

Cullen opened his mouth, perplexed, “What?”

She chuckled at his reaction, “It is your cabin, right? Why did you give it to me?”

“Did Josephine tell you?” But Ashlyn shook her head. “How did you know it was mine?”

Her grey eyes wandered the room, lingering on the different items as she named them. “The boots left behind, the books, the smell. The desk is just organized enough. It’s just very Cullen.”

He scratched his facial hair, a little bewildered. “Well, I gave it to you when you were returned from closing the tear. Adan and Solas needed more room to work, so I volunteered my cabin.”

“What about after I woke?” She frowned.

“It was clear you belonged here. I just, let it remain your cabin.” He shrugged, “All of my things were in Josephine and Leliana’s room anyways.” The chair made a sound as he got out of it, and stood in front of his old desk. “Really the books gave me away?”

“ _Tactical Training. On Command_.” Ashlyn pointed at the specific titles as she named them. “Who else would read those books. Look at them, the binding is almost gone on them.”

Cullen felt his face flush, “Well, they are very informative. You should read them.” He took them off of the shelf, running his finger down the wrinkled spine before placing them on the nightstand next to her.

She picked up one of the books, flicking through the pages. “I’m going to find you a different book to read. A fantastical one, so you can take a break.”

“I look forward to seeing what you can find.” Cullen grabbed the edges of his cloak, pulling it closer to him as he made to leave.

“Would you ever tell me what happened that day, in Kirkwall?” Ashlyn asked.

He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “One day.” He looked towards the door and nodded to it, “I should get going. Everyone will want to know that you are doing okay.”

“Are they mad at me? For running off?” She sounded anxious.

“No. They were just concerned. Actually, no. Josephine is a little angry that you hired The Chargers without consulting her.” He smiled, grabbing onto the door handle.

“I’m glad to be home.” She said to him, hugging her pillow as she settled back onto her bed.

“Me too.” He agreed, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

For a few weeks, Haven was untroubled. The snow continued to fall, covering the mountain peaks and treetops with a white-coat. The Inquisition attempted to remain busy, as the Herald remained in recovery. Josephine’s desk was becoming chaotic, with stacks of requisitions and letters building upon it, Leliana was monitoring agents, an influx of ravens were coming and going from her tent at all hours and Cassandra was patrolling with small squads of soldiers, fulfilling orders and investigating rumours.

The first week of recovery was excruciating for Ashlyn. She laid in her cabin, waiting for one of her companions to stop by. Iron Bull and Varric were the best guests by far, always bringing hilarious antidotes and even once smuggling in a mug of ale. But she appreciated all of her company — Solas’ constant apologizing and insistence that something like that wouldn’t happen again, Sera’s giggling and Vivienne’s gossiping. When she was alone, Ashlyn found herself thumbing through the books that Cullen had put aside for her. On pages that were previously dog-eared, she would slow down and read it more carefully — wondering what the Commander had found so insightful on that page.

After Mother Giselle and Adan approved Ashlyn to remove her sling, she began to train again. She was stiff at first, from laying in her bed and she could feel her stitches tugging in her side. But she soon adjusted, and began to feel like an adequate fighter again. She begged Cassandra to spar with her, hoping to apply her new found knowledge of battle tactics from the Commander’s books into action. The echo of sword, shield and daggers could be heard throughout Haven, along with the women’s grunts and curses as they practiced. Next, Ashlyn approached the Iron Bull and Sera for lessons in their weapon of choice. Bull had let out a chuckle when she asked but he obliged. He showed her the proper way to hold, grip and swing a greatsword. While Sera showed the Herald the mechanics of her bow and the quickest way to aim.

All the while Ashlyn was doing this, Commander Cullen was watching in fascination. Not only had she had a miraculous recovery, but she seemed to be training harder than ever. One night, while they sat in the Chantry’s dining hall eating their dinner he braved her a question.

Leaning across the wooden table, he spoke in a low voice, “Can I ask you something?”

She had just finishing slurping a spoonful of stew as Cullen spoke. With a sheepish smile, she covered her mouth and agreed.

“I’ve never seen you train before, or even fight. You are, uh, very good.”

“Thank you…” She whispered, seeming embarrassed. Did Cullen see her skin tinge pink? Or was it just the lighting in the hall. He snapped back when he heard her speak again. “But what was the question?”

“Oh, I…,” Cullen stumbled over his words, staring into the bowl of stew, “Well, why are you practicing with a greatsword and bow? You’re a rogue are you not?

She nodded, “I am. But after reading your book, I’ve come to realize that I need to be more diverse on the battlefield.”

He looked up from his bowl, mouth slightly open. “Wait, you actually read them?”

“Of course I did,” Ashlyn said very matter-of-factly. “They were really quite fascinating. I’ve never thought of fighting in such a tactical way. Usually, I just fight like I’m alone, regardless if people are helping me or not. I had a hard time adjusting to having a squad around me at first, but after reading this I think we can all communicate much better. Be more strategic.”

“Right. Exactly.” Cullen was at a loss for words, his spoon dangling in his hand as he listened to her.

“And by having these lessons with Bull and Sera, I’m hoping that if anything does happen to my daggers, I will to able to grab the closest thing to me and know how to use it. Whether its a sword, or bow, or shield.”

He was stunned, “That’s a good idea.” He finally snapped his open mouth shut, “Well if you ever want to talk tactics, you know where to find me. I’d offer to spar with you, but as you said before I leave my flank open right?”

Ashlyn smirked, remembering her comment to him when they had first met. “Ha, apparently so do I.” She gestured to her injured side, chuckling.

Cullen joined her with a laugh, but the curve of his mouth lingered on his lips much longer than hers.

* * *

Cullen could hardly believe that conversation was just one week ago. He was recalling how relaxed she had looked, her face flushed and pink, hair let down in cascading waves as they sat together during dinner. Now she was standing across the war table from him, her hair knotted tightly in a ponytail and eyebrows furrowed together. Her eyes were piercing the map sprawled out across the oak, staring at Redcliffe as she thought.

The Council had called a meeting with the Herald, to once again discuss her encounter with Magister Alexius and their plan for the mages. They had been at it for over an hour now.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.” Josephine said, folding her clipboard under her armpit as she crossed her arms.

Ashlyn was perplexed. “We can’t waste time fighting amongst ourselves. We have to come to an agreement.” She stated plainly.

Their Spymaster let out an exasperated sigh, “A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us,” she glanced across the room, “want to do nothing.”

Josephine flicked her black hair out of her face frantically, “Not this again.”

Cullen finally spoke up, circling Redcliffe on the map with his finger. “Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” He looked up at Ashlyn, his eyes wide, “If you go in there, you’ll die.”

He suddenly felt the eyes of every woman in the room. Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra were looking at him curiously. His face turned hot and he quickly added, “…and we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts.” Once again though, his eyes gravitated back to Ashlyn where they held each other’s gaze, “I won’t allow it.”

Leliana has already brushed this off, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!”

”Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught.” Josephine interrupted, “An “Orlesian” Inquisition’s army marching into Fereldan would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.” She said finitely.

“The Magister—”, Cassandra has not spoken in a while, when her words came out her voice cracked

The Commander finished her sentence for her, “Has outplayed us.”

Silence filled the war room, dread creeping up into their hearts. But Ashlyn shook her head, “We can’t just give up. There has to be something we can do.”

Cassandra agreed, placing her hands back on the table and eyeing the map again. “We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution.”

Ashlyn shut her grey eyes, concentrating. “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer, a water court, something…”. Her voice was desperate as she looked up at Cullen for answers.

He grimaced, “There’s nothing I know of that would work.”

“Wait.” Leliana put a finger up as she recalled something,” There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

Cullen shook his head, “Too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?” The Spymaster’s eyes flashed over to Ashlyn.  
Cullen scratched at his beard, “While they’re focused on Trevelyan we break the Magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk.” Before he could ask how Ashlyn felt about this, there was a sudden boom that echoed throughout the room. The ornate doors of the war room were kicked open by a mustached man draped in fine white silks.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.” He said, his cloak flickering around him dramatically as he moved to stand next to Ashlyn.

One of Cullen’s soldiers came running into the room out of breath. They had obviously had to chase the man down. “This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Ashlyn said, letting out a breathy laugh. “This is Dorian. The mage who gave me the initial information about Alexius with Felix. He can help us.”

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.” He said very matter-of-fairly, twirling his staff between his fingers.

Cullen looked to Ashlyn, his voice serious. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

“I just know that the templars are not the right choice for us. We will go ahead to Redcliffe, and secure the mages to help us.” She said sternly, her hands wrapped behind her back.

Before the Commander could say anything, Leliana has stepped in. “As you wish,” she said, “I will begin preparations.” She swept out of the room, her purple hood suddenly whisked onto her head.

He then watched as the mustached mage hooked his arm around the Herald’s, talking to her under his breath as he led her out into the hallway. A wave of jealousy overcame him, but it was interrupted by someone tugging at his elbow. He turned to find Cassandra, with worry etched on her face.

“Cullen, I have to ask much of you again.”

He already knew why. “I’m to stay behind again aren’t I?”

She sighed, “Yes, but,”

“Do you know what it’s like? To be sitting in this winter wasteland wondering if the whole rest of your cause is being slaughtered?” He growled, his knuckles clenched white.

Cassandra swallowed, “I do not.”

“Well, it isn’t fun I’ll tell you that.” He spat bitterly.

“But, I do know what it’s like to leave Haven, knowing that the people inside it are protected by their Commander.” Her voice was sincere, her eyes searching to meet with Cullen’s.

“I know. It’s just... nothing can happen. To any of you. I will never forgive myself.” He gulped as he glanced back down the hallway, watching Ashlyn’s hair and scarf flicker out of sight through the Chantry doors.

“I won’t allow it. And as for the Herald... I will be escorting her with Leliana, acting with her agents. She will be protected, Cullen.”

“Good. Nothing can happen to her. If it did...”

She interrupted him, “We are as good as dead.” She paused for a moment, before asking him a question. “Are you okay that we are siding with the mages?”  
“I could ask you the same thing, Seeker.” He said flatly.

“Cullen, this could mean fighting your old brothers, your peers.”

“If it comes to that, then it does. I have left that life behind.” He said, pursing his lips together. “And they are not innocent in this, I know that. I wish the Inquisition could stay out of this war between the templars and mages. I have seen it’s chaos up close Cassandra…”

“I know.” She grabbed onto the Commander’s shoulder, “But we cannot do this alone, we need allies.”

“Then I hope we’ve chosen right.” He said sullenly, turning down the hall and leaving Cassandra alone.

* * *

The shadows hugged her like an old friend, as she slipped in between the columns and rafters of the throne room. Her hood was bent low over her face, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the room.

It was weird for Leliana to return to Redcliffe castle after all these years. Sneaking through the back exit, down the twirling tower stairs. They were dusty and filled with cobwebs, just as they had been then. She has been so much younger then, more innocent. She had been so excited to be traveling alongside two grey wardens, and that they trusted her to save the child Connor.

Now she crouched in the rafters in the throne room of the castle, posed and ready to drop down and surprise the Venatori guards. The Herald was in front of Alexius now, Bull and Varric on the landing behind her. Cassandra was hiding with her agents, her hand twitching at the hilt of her sword.

Leliana’s eyes snapped to the Magister when she heard him raise his voice. “You’re nothing but a mistake!!!!” He bellowed, jumping out of the throne. The room was very tense and quiet now. Alexius’ words were mumbles now, and the Spymaster was having a hard time understanding what Ashlyn and his exchange was.

In the same dramatic fashion, the mage Dorian, who had volunteered to help them back in Haven, darted into the room. He stood his ground next to Ashlyn, speaking to his old Magister in a calm voice. Leliana watched as the man became more defensive, his posture straightening and stance widening. He only had eyes for the Herald.

“The Elder one demands this woman’s blood!” He bellowed again, his voice echoing throughout the throne room.

In this same moment, Leliana whistled between her teeth, signaling her agents. Her agents jumped from the rafters, landing quietly behind the unsuspecting Venatori guards. With a quick snap, the men were on their knees and then crumpled to the floor. Their bodies lined the lush green rug, running across the room.

Leliana and Cassandra joined their agents, jumping down into the room revealing themselves. A panicked yell escaped Alexius as he looked around at his fallen guards.

“Your men are dead, Alexius.” Ashlyn spoke, her nostrils flared and eyes serious.

“You are a mistake. You should never have existed!” He screamed. Suddenly a light burst from his hand, casting the room into a bright, green light. An amulet started floating in the air, reflecting the colour of the room.

“No!!!!” Dorian screamed, raising his staff and waving it in front of him and Ashlyn. A golden slashed hit Alexius, causing him to be thrown back. But it was too late — the amulet cracked and a large, green hole opened up before it. The hole was like a breach, rippling in waves for a second before Ashlyn and Dorian were sucked into it.

Leliana suddenly felt a shift, her stomach turning and folding on itself. Her heart was pounding, echoing in her eardrums. Squeezing her eyes tightly, waves of nausea passed over her as she felt the room around her twirling. Then suddenly, it was over. She snapped her eyes open, darting to Alexius. Drawing her bow, she took aim at him — her fingers slightly trembling on the string.

Dusty, black smoke began to fill the room, sparks of green and white shooting out of it. Then the same hole reappeared, and two figures came stumbling out of it. _Snap_. It had all disappeared, the smoke, the green light, the hole. In its place was the Herald and Dorian, standing with their fists curled and smirks on their faces.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian said slyly, stepping towards Alexius, who was standing mouth agape.

The Magister fell to his knees, his hands falling heavy to his side.

Ashlyn stepped towards him, her eyes narrowed. “Lay aside all claims to Redcliffe, and we let you live.” She glanced at Felix, and he nodded his thanks.

Alexius bowed his head to her, before reaching out to his son. The pair’s figures were blasted out from behind by the fireplace. The Inquisition let the father and son have a moment together before Leliana’s agents approached Alexius and arrested him. The Herald and her squad watched as he was escorted away.

Dorian let out a breathy laugh, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, I’m glad that’s over with.” But his smile quickly faded, as the sound of marching feet filled the throne room. “Or not.”

Fereldan soldiers were marching down the hallway runner, their shining armour standing out against the Inquisition’s tired leather. They stood at guard as a figure walked down the line of soldiers.

“Grand Enchanter! Imagine how surprised I was to learn you’d given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister.” A sarcastic voice rang out.

“King Alistair!” Fiona scrambled to him, before bowing her head respectfully.

He waited for her to stand normally again, “Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.” He said through gritted teeth.

She stumbled over her words, “Your majesty, we never intended…

“I know what you intended. I wanted to help you,” The King said sadly, “But you’ve made it impossible. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.” His disappointment was obvious.

“But we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?” Fiona asked desperately.

But before the King of Ferelden could answer, Ashlyn walked towards them with a gloved finger in the air asking to interject. “The Inquisition might be willing to take in the mages.” She suggested, hesitantly smiling at King.

The Grand enchanter was wary, “And what are the terms of this arrangement?”

Dorian scoffed, “Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you. The Inquisition is better than that, yes?”

Varric stepped forward, offering his opinion. “Mages can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who can make bad decisions, but still. Loyal.” Iron Bull’s arms were crossed, but he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

Fiona eyed Leliana and Cassandra, who were waiting expectantly for an answer. “It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.”

Ashlyn glanced back at her comrades before speaking again, “We would be honoured to have you fight at _allies_ at the Inquisition’s side.”

Fiona’s eyes widened at the mention of the world allies. “A generous offer. But will the rest of the Inquisition honour it?”

“The breach threatens all of Thedas. We cannot afford to be divided now. We cannot fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.” Ashlyn’s voice was passionate, her eyes wild with determination.

Everyone remaining in the throne room were slightly surprised at the Herald’s diplomatic abilities.

The King raised his brow, “I’d take that offer if I were you. One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.”

Fiona swallowed and nodded, “We accept. It would be madness not too. I will gather my people and ready them to journey to Haven. The breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us a chance. ”

The Grand Enchanter and Herald grabbed each other’s hands, shaking them firmly. Cassandra and Leliana approached Fiona, “We can take it from here Herald,” they said in unison. King Alistair and his soldiers left the castle, followed quickly by the majority of the Inquisition. Ashlyn and her squad stayed behind, lingering.

Ashlyn pushed the hair out of her face, which was sticky with sweat. Rubbing the back of her neck, she let out a heavy sigh as she turned on her heel to regroup with her comrades. Alexius’ time-warping spell had done a number on her. She felt stick to her stomach, but not from the effects of magic. What she had seen in his alternate universe had troubled her, and still troubled her. She approached Varric and Iron Bull, her throat feeling raw and muscles tired. Throwing her arms around the pair, she brought them in for a hug. The height difference between the pair made it hard to do, but she somehow accomplished it.

“What’s that for Freckles?” Varric asked, his eyes studying her as she pulled away.

“It’s hard to explain, I still can’t make much sense of what happened. But Dorian and I were pulled into a future that hadn’t happened yet…” She furrowed her brows as she spoke, “But this future, was grim and cruel and dark, and you both had endured awful torment and torture. And yet you were still there, fighting for the Inquisition and me. I — I just can’t forget it.”

Iron Bull grabbed onto Ashlyn, “That sounds like some confusing shit. But we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. We haven’t even fought a dragon together yet.” His face broke into a huge grin, one of his teeth just catching on his lip. “I think we have some time in Redcliffe as the mages get organized. How about we go camp out at the Gull and Lantern?”

“That is exactly what I need right now.” Ashlyn agreed, readjusting her scarf as they left the castle. “But first, there’s something I need to pick up.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 9**

The mood in Haven was different. It was more crowded and busy, as the mages had arrived from Redcliffe with their tents and camps. They had settled within the walls of Haven, spread out where any space could be found. But there was a sense of determination that had quelled the sense of uneasiness before it. Haven had a sense of purpose now, the Inquisition was planning — they now had the resources to close the Breach.

Soldiers and mages had been paired together, learning how to defend each other in battle. They were unsure if the Breach would attack back — if demons would be present or not. So the Commander had them preparing for the worst. It had turned out to be a good tactic on his part — eventually calming any nerves of the soldiers and ex-Templars, while distinguishing the fears of the mages as they were forced to work together.

Solas, Vivienne, and Dorian had spread themselves out in the dining hall of the Chantry, pouring over books, texts, and parchments as they discussed techniques on how to channel the mages’ power in order to close the breach. They brought Ashlyn into their sessions, studying her mark and channeling their own powers together. Once they felt confident in their approach to the Breach, they met with the Council and Grand Enchanter Fiona early one morning.

“The Mages will encircle Ashlyn, all performing this spell here,” Dorian pointed to a text, depicting a mage kneeling with a staff. “It should generate enough power into her that she will be able to close the Breach.”

Cassandra looked to Solas, “You are the most knowledgeable about the mark and the breach. Do you think it will work?”

Solas rubbed the top of his head, “I don’t see why not. The Herald will act as a conduit of our power, and as you know mages are extremely powerful. If we all perform the spell in unison…”

“But what of the demons? When the tear was closed demons poured out from it as the Herald tried to close it?” Josephine asked anxiously, clutching her clipboard.

“My soldiers know how to fight demons, they understand our strategy. They have been preparing for this for weeks. We will be ready.” Cullen answered with determination. “How are you feeling about all of this? Once again, this puts you in the most danger.” He turned to Ashlyn, his eyes dark.

“This is what I am supposed to do. I am the only one who can close the breach. I will be fine.” When everyone looked concern, she shook her head, “We have to do it, this is our only hope.”

“You are right.” The Grand Enchanter said gently, “And I know my mages will stand with you at the breach.” She grabbed onto the text that Dorian had shown earlier, flipping through the pages. “This looks like a simple spell, draining but simple. It will not be taxing to teach them.”

“The day after next then?” Cassandra asked, her hands woven in front of her in an anxious knot.

The war room agreed in silence, standing still for a moment.

“Well, there is lots to be done isn’t there?” Leliana said and was the first to leave the room.

* * *

The day had been long. The Commander had spent the entire day after the Council meeting, preparing stations and tactics for the closing of the Breach. He had assigned his Lieutenant and two other groups to protect Haven, as there was no chance he would be staying behind this time. It had been a heated discussion between him and Cassandra, but eventually, she agreed that having the Commander at the temple was in the best interest of the Inquisition.

Cullen walked into his shared bedroom and was relieved to find it empty. He had been hoping for a moment alone after a day of commands and orders. He pulled his privacy screen across his side of the room and began removing his armour slowly as his tense muscles unclenched. Once all of his armour sat on his dresser, he changed into a linen shirt and went to sit on his bed. But the sound of something crumbling underneath caused him to sit back up.

Moving over to the side, he found a rectangular parcel wrapped in crinkly brown paper sitting on his bed. Furrowing his brow, he ran a finger under one of the creases and tore the paper open. Pushing it back, it revealed a stunning leather-bound book. Cullen ran his fingers down the spine and turned it over to reveal gold-leafed pages. The title read, “The Adventurer’s Journal”. A smile broke across Cullen’s face as he opened the book and a piece of parchment fell onto his lap.

_For the Composed, Considerate and Charming Commander Cullen,_

_You will not find anything about tactics or strategy in here. Instead, you will read the tale of an adventurer, who knows how to fight, love and most importantly relax._

_You should try it some time._   
_— Aggravating, Argumentative and Awestruck Ashlyn_

A loud laugh escaped Cullen as he read her signature. He couldn’t believe she had actually gone out of her way to get him a book. He couldn’t remember the last time he had received a gift. It had even been months since he had last opened a letter that was not a requisition or updated information for the Inquisition. His heart swelled as he looked at her handwriting — he had never seen it before. It wasn’t neat, but also not messy. It was loopy and carefree, nothing like his own methodical printing. It was just so pretty, so her. He looked over at the words she had used to describe him — charming? He felt his face get warm — does she think I’m charming? The thought bewildered him, but also made his stomach flip.

He thumbed through the pages, getting glimpses of the names of the chapters before he placed it back down on his nightstand. Grabbing his cloak, Cullen pulled it and his boots back on and left his room. Flipping the collar up against his face, he left the Chantry and began to trudge through the snow to Ashlyn’s cabin.

But before he could get there he was distracted by the sounds of laughter and chatter. Once he reached the courtyard stairs, he found that there was a group hovering next to a roaring fire. He realized that it was Ashlyn’s squad and her, all of them huddled together telling stories and jokes. Mugs were clutched in all of their hands as the stood together.

“Cullen!” A voice yelled, before coming up to him. It was Ashlyn, her face rosy from the cold but her eyes were twinkling. “Come join us.”

“Oh, thank you but I have much to prepare for. I’ll leave you to it with your friends.” He made to turn away, but she caught his hand. The sensation of her fingers holdings his caused him to freeze.

“Nice try! You’re staying!” Ashlyn said, pulling him back to the fire with her. She stopped them in front of the fire, standing close together in order to feel the warmth of the flames.

“Curly, you made it!” Varric raised his mug to Cullen, “Ruffles and Nightingale should be here right away.”

“Oh, so everyone is invited?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course, we wanted to get the team together before the big day,” Sera said, her face in its usual smirk. “Look here they come.”

Josephine and Leliana had joined the circle around the fire, both sporting blankets on top of their usual cloaks. “We couldn’t have done this while the sun was still up?” The ambassador chattered, tugging the blanket around her even tighter.

“I’ll make this quick for your sake then Josephine. I was just hoping to get everyone at the same time, so we can recognize just what a group we are.” Ashlyn beamed, “How we all can call the Inquisition home. And what tomorrow means for all of us.”

“Aye!” Iron Bull shouted, raising his mug up in the air. Everyone chuckled at him, “What? It’s just tea.” He winked, taking a sip. For a moment, every matched Bull’s spirits. They smiled and laughed, gulping down their drinks and sharing hugs. But then it turned cold and exhaustion swept over the group.

“We best turn in,” Cassandra stated, “For tomorrow will be a hard day.” Everyone agreed, grabbing their things and pouring the remnants of their drinks on the fire to put it out. Cullen stood awkwardly next to Ashlyn as her comrades came to give her hugs and goodnights. He politely smiled at them as they passed, his fingers knotted behind his back. Varric and Bull were the last to leave, the pair of them singing together as they found their way back into the cozy pub.

That left Cullen and Ashlyn alone, staring at the last breaths of the fire. They remained standing close together as if the group of people was still around them forcing them too. They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the embers dying and sparking. But finally, Cullen opened his mouth to speak. “Thank you, for the book. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You put up with me and these other lunatics every day.” She gestured to where the rest of the group had been standing and smiled.

“I don’t put up with you.” Cullen stammered, “I enjoy spending time with you, you’re my — ”

“Friend?” Ashlyn finished.

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve referred to someone as that and actually meant it.” Cullen said, surprised at himself.

A smile spread across her face, showing her white teeth. “Well, good.”

Cullen paused, memorizing the way her face looked in that moment. Blinking himself back he spoke again, “You’re letter was quite good. You’re an excellent writer.”

“Ha!” She let out a forced laugh, “My mother would be so thrilled to hear that her lessons paid off.” She rolled her eyes, showing her sarcasm. “What you should really be excited about is the book — it’s my favourite.”

Cullen’s eyes widened, “Is it really?”

“Oh yes, I re-read that book so much. It was in much worst condition than yours. How badly I wished I could escape my four-poster bed and go horseback riding, and fight trolls and witches. The book was really the only thing that kept me sane. So when I saw it in a vendor’s cart in Redcliffe, I just thought it was destined to be yours. You showed me yours, now I’ve shown you mine.” When she smiled her eyelashes hit her cheeks, which seemed to be getting pinker as they talked.

The Commander realized that he could stand in the freezing cold all night and talk to her. But it was getting late, and the seriousness of the next day was lingering over their conversation. “Well, I guess we should be off?” Ashlyn suggested, wrinkling her nose. “Lots to do tomorrow.”

“Yes, lots to do.” Cullen agreed, watching for her reaction. “I’m sure it will all go well.”

She nodded but was blinking fast. “Sleep well Cullen,” She said softly, brushing his arm with her hand as she walked past him towards her cabin. He remained where he was standing, watching her walk away until she was at her door. Once inside the door lingered open as she stood in its frame. They stared at each other for just a moment, before Cullen bowed his head and began trudging back towards the Chantry.

* * *

It was mid-day, and the sky was dark grey with large clouds flying low. The air was thick with tension, as the Inquisition stood around the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Everyone was struggling to get into their positions, tripping over loose rubble and stone. The Breach was casting it’s ghoulish green light across their faces and reflecting on their armour.

The mages were standing upstairs, surrounding the upper battlements and higher levels of what was remaining of the building. Grand Enchanter Fiona stood tall, looking down at the rest of the Inquisition below with a reassuring nod. Leliana was looming behind her, as her agents were spread across the temple — watching and waiting.

The Commander was pacing back and forth, eyeing his men ensuring they were in the correct positions. They were stationed all around the temple, guarding it against intruders who may attempt to stop the closing. As well as some inside, ready to fight any demons that the breach may throw their way. He gulped as he watched Ashlyn enter the ruins, escorted by Solas and Cassandra. The rest of her squad trickled in behind her, taking various positions around the breach — ready to fight.

“Mages!” Cassandra called, getting their attention. A murmur of anticipation went through the temple as everyone realized it was time to begin.

Solas raised his staff to get shift their attention to him. “Focus past the Herald, let her will draw from you.” His voice boomed, as he turned to face Ashlyn — his staff posed to begin the spell.

Ashlyn glanced a look behind before she began edging towards the breach. It sensed the mark, cracking open and spilling bright green rays onto the ash-covered floor. Her hand began to spark as the connection grew deeper.

Solas was the first to move, kneeling down and clutching his staff in front of him. All of the mages joined him, bowing down and smashing their staffs just in front of their feet. A warm, yellow light began to glow from them and a slight hum began vibrating in everyone’s ears. The soldiers’ and agents’ fingers were turning white as they watched, looking for any signs of demons or trouble.

Ashlyn struggled to get to the heart of the breach, her boots sliding in the rubble and ash as it’s power tried to send her back. Once she was in the centre of it, she held her hand up towards it. The beam that exited from her hand was stronger and brighter than ever before as she fed off of the energy of the mages surrounding her. Sparks and cracking were sent off between the Breach and Ashlyn’s connection. Suddenly, there was a huge beam of white light. It was a glow at first, warming up the temple, but then it turned into a searing light and it erupted, knocking everyone off of their feet.

The light and motion had disorientated the Inquisition, they were all blinking and stumbling back onto their feet with their ears ringing. Cassandra was the first to get up, scampering over to where Ashlyn last was, pushing past the fallen agents in front of her. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the Herald kneeling, her fists buried in the ground keeping her upright. She turned to face Cassandra, her eyes wide and mouth open with shock.

“You — You did it!” Cassandra gasped, rushing towards the Herald in a moment enthusiasm. A roar erupted from the crowds as the soldiers, mages and agents cheered in the temple.

The pair grasped each other’s forearms, and Ashlyn was lifted off of her feet. “Do you feel okay?” The Seeker asked worriedly, eyeing the Herald for injury.

She touched her nose, that was bleeding slightly. “I’m just drained. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She blinked her eyes hazily, staring around at the beaming crowd around her. Throwing her head back, she let her long dark hair fall into the wind as she stared up at the sky. A gaping hole was in it now, the grey clouds gravitating towards it in low circles. The breach had left a scar, a constant reminder of what had been. Ashlyn smirked a little, brushing away the blood that was still trickling down her nose.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 10**

Music could be heard throughout all of Haven as the people celebrated the closing of the Breach. Folks were dancing, eating, singing and laughing for the first time in months. The Commander was watching from the steps of the Chantry, his arms crossed over his chest.

Some of the village women had come up to him giggling, asking him to dance. He had politely said no, insisting that he had other duties to attend to. But instead, he watched the others from afar. But there was one person he was watching much more closely than the others.

Ashlyn had just finished talking with Cassandra, her face relaxing slightly as she was invited over by a wave from her friends. The Iron Bull passed her a silver tankard, a large smile on his face as she joined the group. Varric and Dorian crowded around, talking excitedly with her. Cullen felt a wave of jealousy as he watched the men standing and chatting with her so easily. How did they get so lucky as to become her close friends?

His mind had been racing with images of her all day. The way her eyes sparkled after closing the breach. Her scarf flicking in the wind as they walked back to Haven, closely surrounded by her comrades, and how the corners of her mouth kept flickering while she smiled, showing how exhausted she was.

Now, he was staring at her dark waves, framing her face like curtains. She raised her tankard to her mouth, taking a long sip from it when suddenly she sensed someone looking at her. Turning, she made eye contact with Cullen, a smile playing on her face. She licked the extra ale left on her mouth, leaving her lips glistening. Cullen felt temptation shiver through his body as he watched her, gulping deeply before feeling his face turn hot. He was blushing, looking down at the snow when he heard it.

It was the unmistakable cry of the bell of the watchtower. His stomach knotted as shrieks of terror and worry spread throughout Haven. Without thinking, he was sprinting to the gates, his cloak swirling around him as he ran.

Thrusting her mug at Varric, Ashlyn’s wide eyes followed the Commander. “We must go.” She ran off at the same pace behind him. She met him at the front gate just as Cassandra arrives, who too look bewildered.

“Cullen?!” She asked, demanding more information.

He grimaced, “Our watch guard reported it’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.” Cullen pointed.

Josephine appeared suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed together into a dark line. “Under what banner?”

“None.” He said simply with a shrug.

“None?!” The Ambassador was stunned.

Ashlyn was watching the crack under the main gate, which was now flickering orange. Suddenly there was a loud, violent knock that caused the door to shake. Josephine jumped at the noise.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” A mysterious voice shouted.

Ashlyn looked to Cullen, who gave her a nod. Together they pushed the grand gates open, which revealed a man in ginormous armour. But with a large thud, he fell to his knees, with a dagger in his back. A small figure was revealed as he fell. It was a scrawny, young man with a large brimmed hat, that cast a shadow over his face.

Taking her daggers out, Ashlyn pointed them at the mysterious man. He lifted his head, revealing gentle eyes. He raised his hands up cautiously, showing he meant no harm. “I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help! People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know…,” He spoke in a monotone voice, but his face was etched with worry.

“What is this? What’s going on!” She pointed her daggers out again, waving them at the impending army marching down the mountainside.

“The templars come to kill you,” He said simply.

“Templars?” Cullen interjected, a pained expression on his face. “Is this the Orders response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?!”

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him?” He asked Ashlyn, his eyes wide. “He knows you. You took his mages. There.” Cole pointed up high into the mountain, where a monstrously tall silhouette and a Templar Commander could be seen. “The elder one.”

“Samson...” Cullen hissed, as he followed Cole’s finger. “I know that man! But the Elder One…”

Cole trembled, “He’s very angry that you took his mages.

Ashlyn watched as the army of Red Templars marched closer, “Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” She begged.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force.” Ashlyn watched him point to a trebuchet, completely mesmerized. She hadn’t seen the Commander actually command before.

“Use everything you can.” He gave her a reassuring nod before turning around and facing the gathering crowd surrounding the open gates of Haven. “Mages! You — you have sanction to engage them. That is Samson, he will not make it easy. Inquisition, with the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!” He raised his sword high into the air, his voice echoing through Haven.

The mages and soldiers let out a mighty battle cry as Ashlyn turned on her heels and headed towards the trebuchet. The first of the red templars had pushed into the line of fire. They were gruesome creatures, glittering with fire red stones and yielding Templar axes and swords. Suddenly a bolt whizzed by Ashlyn’s head and landed in the heart of one of them. Swirling around she saw Varric reload another bolt into his crossbow. “What’s going on?!” He yelled over the sounds of the fighting. Dorian and Iron Bull appeared from behind him, joining in the battle.

“Defend the trebuchet! Our soldiers will load it while we fight.” Ashlyn ordered her companions.

They all took their positions, swinging, aiming and grunting. Sweat was dripping down the Herald’s forehead and neck, turning cold as the winter air wiped around them. When she had ripped her dagger out of one of the last attacking red templars a soldier called out to her. “Centred and cleared! Firing! ... They felt that! We’ll reload — you get to the other trebuchet! It isn't firing!”

The foursome headed further south, where they found the second trebuchet overloaded with Red Templars. None of the soldiers were near it, as they had abandoned it to swing their swords and shields at the Templars. It was left unguarded and loaded. “Shit!” Ashlyn shouted as she realized that one of the enemies had just perceived the same thing. She sprinted towards the contraption at full speed, knocking into the templar. They fought in the snow together, until she heard the quick snap of his breaking neck. With a grimace she quickly got up, shaking the snow off of her.

One of the soldiers finally noticed the Herald, “Quickly!! Just aim for the left peak and turn the other lever!” He screamed at her, his face red from the fighting.

Scrambling, Ashlyn used all of her arm strength to turn the stiff wheel to the left. Closing one eye, she checked her aim before yanking hard on the other lever. There was a sound of rattling chains and then the stone was whizzing through the air. It collided with the mountain, causing a rush of snow to come crashing down. It crushed trees and buried a large portion of the marching army.

She felt a clap on her back and found Varric smiling behind her. The soldiers around them started cheering as the flames of the torches of the impending army were extinguished by the snow. The hairs on Ashlyn’s arms began to rise, as she heard a terrifying screech echo through the air. Snapping around just in time, she watched as a giant orange ball of fire flew into the trebuchet, exploding against the machinery and sending it into splinters.

There was a combination of grunts and panicked yells amongst them. “Shit, who ordered the end of the damn world?!” Varric shouted, scrambling away from the remains of the smoking trebuchet.

“Everyone to the gates!” Ashlyn yelled, her fingers twitching at her side.

Her squad and the soldiers ran back together, watching the sky wearily for the fire-breathing beast. As they neared Haven, a loud banging caught their attention.

It was Harrit, throwing himself against the locked door of the Smithy. “Blasted shoulder!” He bellowed, before ramming into it again. Before he could give the door another go, Ashlyn caught his arm grabbing his attention. “Herald, help me with this door!”

Shoving him to the side, Ashlyn and Bull both kicked the door in together — sending it flying into the Smithy.

“Thank you, Herald! Just grabbing the essentials, won’t die for the forge.” Harrit said quickly. But before he could enter horse master Dennet emerged from the building looking bewildered.

“I — what’s going on?!” He exclaimed, taking in his surroundings.

“Oh, you’re ok! Thank the maker.” Harrit grabbed onto Dennet, pulling him out the of the building

Ashlyn interrupted them, “Quickly, while you have the chance both of you take the horses and go. We will evacuate the others.”

The pair nodded with wide eyes, before grabbing some bags and stuffing them with tools before running to the stalls. The sounds of hooves were all they could hear as they moved towards Haven’s main gates. Ashlyn did her best to ignore the bodies littering the snow.

Cullen was standing at the gates, ushering in the last few of the soldiers and mages fighting outside of Haven. “Move it! Move it!” He shouted, waving the Herald and her companions through.

Ashlyn took the Commander in — his hair was disheveled from sweat and snow, his eyes ablaze, and his scared lips were contorted in a scowl. His sword was at the ready at his side, it’s blade covered in blood.

“We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against the beast.” At the sounds of more shrieking and the cackling of the fires raging within Haven, he spoke again, “At this point, just make them work for it.” He ran off without another word or glance at the squad, chasing after the red templars that had broken through Haven’s defenses.

Ashlyn’s eyes scanned around her, noticing the trails of blood, the smoke from the cabins swirling high into the air. Haven was in shambles. “The villagers will need help if they are to survive this.”

As if on cue, a voice pierced the air. “Help!” Darting over to the noise, they found a soldier pinned into a corner as a handful of red templars moved towards her. The four of them sprinted towards them, swinging and aiming before eventually killing them.

The soldier thanked the Herald profusely.

“Just look for others on your way to the Chantry!” Ashlyn commanded whilst sprinting away. Her leather boots floated up the cobble steps as they rushed up into the main landing. They were bombarded with red templars as soon as they passed.

“Do you hear that?!” Varric called over the fighting. “Sounds like people!”

Ashlyn watched as the flickering flames of the pub suddenly turned into an unstoppable blaze, “Hold them off!” She cried, running into the crumbling building. A wooden column had fallen on the innkeeper Flissa. Ashlyn scrambled to move the boards on top of her. Dragging her out of the building, the pair gasped as the rest of the building fell where they just were. Trying to catch her breath, Ashlyn helped the fair woman up before instructing her. “Stay behind him.” She pointed to Bull, who nodded in agreement before placing himself in front of Flissa like a shield.

Craning her ears, Ashlyn heard another shout. “Up there!” Booting up towards Adan and Solas’ cabins, she found that they too had been attacked by the beast. Noticing two odd looking piles burning with embers, she began frantically digging at one. “Quick, the other!”

Dorian stepped forward, casting a spell with staff. Suddenly the boards were floating in the air and placed down a distance away with ease. Adan and the scholar Minaeve has been laying under the piles and were on the verge of being burnt alive.

“Herald what’s happening!? Thank you! Thank you!” They both asked frantically as the picked them up off of the snow-covered ground.

Ashlyn ignored their question but instead directed them to stand behind them. “We will take you all to the Chantry. Stay with us.”

Weaving through the cabins and some bushes, Ashlyn led the group around to the Chantry avoiding the majority of the fighting. Looking back at their party, she let out a short “Quickly!”, before sprinting across to the Chantry. Throwing the doors open, she waved all of the villagers in. Peeking her head inside, she saw the Sisters of the Chantry welcoming them in, asking if they were hurt.

“Someone is yelling! There! ” Dorian blurted, pointing to a soldier who was being pinned into one of the cliff sides by red templars. Yet again the squad went to her rescue, sweat was drenched across their faces from all of the fighting. Ashlyn’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion when she heard another faint cry.

“I hear a voice.” She said, craning her neck to her where it was coming from. Noticing a burning cabin, she raced up the ladder of a nearby watchtower, skipping every other rung. Flames were licking the roof of the building, a large hole gaping in the shingles. Without thinking she jumped across onto the rafters before diving in through the burning hole. Landing with a thud, she squinted at the smoke filling the room. A body was laying on the floor, their hands covering their face and head. Wrapping her scarf around her mouth, she grabbed onto them and pulled them up off of the floor. It was Seggrit, his face was covered in black dust.

“Bull, the door!” She screamed through the fabric of her scarf, and within an instant the wooden door was off of its hinge, laying on the ground.

Scrambling out of the building the pair gulped at the fresh air. Suddenly another screech from the flying beast filled the air, reminding them of their fast-approaching doom.

“To the Chantry quickly!” Ashlyn ordered. They sprinted back up through Haven, completely out of breath by the time they had reached the open door.

Chancellor Roderick was ushering the final few soldiers in. “Move, keep going, the Chantry is your shelter.” He said gently, as he shut the door behind them once inside. With a grunt, he collapsed into Cole’s arms, grabbing his side.

Noticing everyone’s panicked expression, Cole explained, “He tried to stop a templar, the blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

The Chancellor grimaced, “What a charming boy.” Ashlyn helped Cole move Roderick, setting him down carefully on the tiled floor as he grasped at his stomach.

Brushing her hands on her leather trousers, Ashlyn pushed herself up again, eyeing everyone in the Chantry. The Sisters were attending to wounded soldiers and villagers, they were working frantically but quietly. Other villagers were at the back of the building, surrounding their crying children. Ashlyn felt a lump form in her throat as she listened to a father trying to hush and calm his daughter, smoothing her hair as he cradled her. Her companions were catching their breath — they had been defended the inner walls of Haven as Ashlyn, Bull, Varric, and Dorian had fired the trebuchets. They were leaning against the walls and columns of the Chantry, their chests heaving as they replenished their arrows, lyrium, and stamina.

The clinking of boots warned Ashlyn someone was approaching. Snapping back to reality, her eyes met with Cullen’s. “Trevelyan, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

Ashlyn bit her lip, nodding in agreement.

Cole’s mysterious voice entered the conversation. “I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the fade but it looked like that…”. She noticed the odd haze in his eyes.

The Commander scoffed, “I don’t care what it looks like. It’s got a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.” He said through gritted teeth.

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village.” Cole’s misty eyes flashed to Ashlyn, “He only wants the Herald.” He lifted a pale finger towards her.

“If it will save these people, he can have me,” Ashlyn said without hesitating.

Cullen blinked at her answer, his mouth agape.

“It won’t,” Cole said. “He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway,” His eyes flashed down to the ground, “I don’t like him.”

Cullen was exasperated,“You don’t like…” Shaking his head, he addressed only her. “Ashlyn, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

Her eyes flickered back and forth as she studied his face, attempting to understand what he meant, “We’re overrun… to hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.”

He pursed his lips, stretching the white scar that laid on them. “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that chance.”

The pair stood together, thinking intensely of their impending fate. Cullen watched as she avoided his eye contact, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed her fists.

But Cole’s gasp next to them grabbed their attention. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help! He wants to say it before he dies.”

Roderick gave a cough, ignoring the blood that splattered on his hand and continued to speak, “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me… Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you.”

Ashlyn kneeled down in front of him, “What are you on about, Roderick?”

“It was whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start — it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don’t know, Herald. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more.” His eyes were filling with tears, his hand clutching his stomach much more tightly now.

Turning to face the Commander, Ashlyn asked, “What about it Cullen? Will it work?”

“Possibly… If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?” He asked, his amber eyes wide.

Ashlyn planted her feet, saying nothing.

“Perhaps you will surprise us, find a way.” His eyebrows were high on his face, his pink mouth open. She attempted to look hopeful, the corners of her mouth moving up weakly. With a gulp, he turned his back on her to speak to the rest of the Chantry. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

Cole and Cullen grabbed onto the elbows of Chancellor Roderick, helping him up as they escorted him towards the back of the Chantry.

Ashlyn’s personal squad approached her, their faces etched in worry. “What’s going on?” Varric asked, his crossbow slung over his broad chest.

“Let me tell everyone at the same time.” Ashlyn waved everyone over until all nine of her companions stood in front of her. “Chancellor Roderick knows a hidden path out of the Chantry, he and Cullen will be leading the rest of the Inquisition and the villagers to safety. I will be staying to fire the final trebuchet to cause an avalanche, that will bury Haven and everything in it.” Her eyes lowered to the ground on the last few words. “I will need a few of you to stay, not till the very end but just long enough to get me to the trebuchet. The rest of you will leave with Cullen, protecting the others.”

Cassandra stepped forward, her shoulders set back. “Let’s do this.”

“No Cassandra. It can’t be you, you are too important to the Inquisition.” Ashlyn’s eyebrows furrowed. Cassandra opened her mouth to speak again, but she cut her off. “I said no.”

Dorian, Bull, and Varric moved up, “We’ll stay.” The Qunari said seriously, his hand already twitching for the ax on his back.

She nodded a thank you to her three friends, before sending the others off. “Protect the villagers.” She ordered as they silently moved towards the back of the Chantry were the rest of the Inquisition was leaving.

Turning on her heel, Ashlyn made to move through the crowd towards the front doors. But a hand found her elbow, and she stopped. It was the Commander again, his amber eyes were ablaze, transforming the colour to the yellow of a lion’s. “Ashlyn…,” He said softly. Her name on his lips caused her heart to leap up into her throat. “If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

Ashlyn blinked, “I —”, She scrambled to find something meaningful to say, to express what the Inquisition means to her, what he meant to her. But instead, she simply gulped before spitting out, “Thank you, Cullen.”

His eyebrows quickly furrowed, but as Dorian, Bull and Varric approached he became serious again. “They’ll load the trebuchets,” Cullen instructed, pointing to a few assertive soldiers, “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. We will send red sparks into the sky. If we are to have a chance — if you are to have a chance,” His eyes flashed to Ashlyn once more, “Let that thing hear you.”

With one final look, Cullen joined the rest of the Inquisition, slipping through a door and was gone. The group left behind took a few deep breaths, before walking back into the cold. A few red Templars had broken in past Haven’s main gates and were sprinting up the stairs towards them.

“Quickly, you three go around and start loading the trebuchet! We will fight them off.” Pulling out her daggers, Ashlyn swirled them in the crisp, winter air before lunging towards her enemy.

They moved through the snow, defeating Red Templars as they moved closer to the mines attached to the outskirts of Haven. The bodies of their enemies were littered behind them. They made it to the open field of the mine just as the soldiers had finished loading the trebuchet. Suddenly, Red Templars were climbing over the fence into the mining field.

“Go!! We will do the rest!” Ashlyn screamed at the soldiers. They clambered through the snow, leaving white trails of powder as the sprinted for their lives.

The remaining four fought furiously — daggers, ax, bolts, and staff swinging through the winter air madly. Their hearts were pounding in their chests, their breath ragged as they sprinted around each other, protecting and attacking. As the Red Templars numbers dwindled, Ashlyn started shouting through the fighting.

“Once they are finished, I alone will aim the trebuchet. I will give you all time to get back to the Chantry!” She screamed, before letting out a grunt as a Red Templar’s shield hit her from behind.

“We aren’t going anywhere!” Varric howled from behind her, taking the templar out with a bolt to the head.

“Yes. You. Are.” She said, her nostrils flared. She readjusted her daggers in her hands, before joining Bull in fighting one of the larger horrors.

“We…,” Iron Bull began, trying to catch his breaths between swings of his ax, “We can’t just leave you behind.”

“You can and you will,” Ashlyn replied, sinking her dagger into it’s back, sending shards of red lyrium scattering across the snow. “He only wants me. You can still make it out of this.”

Scanning around them, they realized that they were now alone in the mining field. She saw Dorian open his mouth to argue, but she quickly interrupted him. “I’ve already seen you sacrifice yourself for me. I will not allow it again.” His eyes drooped, his mind flickering back to their time in Alexius’ alternate reality. “That is final.” She said with a growl, before turning on her heel and sprinting towards the trebuchet.

With great effort, she began turning the gigantic wooden wheel with great force. Craning her neck, she saw her companions still standing there, their weapons dangling in their hands. “Go! Now!!!” She wailed, her voicing ripping from her throat. They exchanged one final look of dread with her, before sprinting away in the same direction as the Chantry.

With one final tug, she double checked her aim on the trebuchet. It was lined up to the peak of the mountain, the perfect catalyst for the avalanche. Now, she needed to wait for the sparks. Remembering Cullen’s words, Ashlyn bent down and took the shield off of a dead templar, before she began banging on it loudly. She needed to keep it’s attention, long enough for the Inquisition to get past the tree line. She had only struck the shield a few times when she heard the screech and cry of the dragon. Red sparks suddenly crashed into the ground in front of her, and the impact of the energy caused an explosion, which sent her flying back. She landed with a thud in the snow.

She laid, staring at the cloudy night sky for a moment, dazed from her fall. Rubbing her head, Ashlyn turned over onto her side to watch as a ghoulish, tall figure walked through the flames of the explosion. The Elder One’s face was scarred and mangled, pieces of it stretched across to red lyrium. His fingers were long claws, that were now curled into angry fists as he walked towards her. Ashlyn felt the ground rumble as the dragon landed right behind her. Whipping around, she faced it. It was terrifying, it’s white teeth revealed to her as it opened it’s mouth to let out an ear-splitting screech.

“Enough.” The Elder One ordered, sending red sparks out of his hands that immediately silenced the dragon. Ashlyn attempted to control her trembling, as she turned her back on the dragon to face the Elder One.

“Pretender.” He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice, “You toy with forces beyond your kin. No more.”

  
Ashlyn’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion, “What are you? Why are you doing this?”

He scoffed, “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

Anger flared through Ashlyn, “You’ll — you’ll get nothing out of me!”

Corypheus’ face broke out into an evil smile. “You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” Suddenly, he held out a glowing orb, that floated just about his hand. “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” With his opposite hand flaring red, he raised it towards Ashlyn.

Ashlyn felt her mark growing hot, her entire left arm began shaking uncontrollably. She watched as her arm began to rise on its own, her mark growing brighter.

Corypheus spoke again, “It is your fault, “Herald”. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

The connection between the orb and her mark became even stronger. A scream escaped Ashlyn as searing pain struck through her arm.

“I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as “touched”, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

Ashlyn fell to the floor, crumbling in agony. The pain from her mark was consuming her, sending her into blind suffering. She couldn’t even sense the dragon that was closing in behind her. The green of her mark was now had red flickering around it.

“And you used the anchor to undo my work! The gall!

She fought to come back to her senses, words falling out of her mouth. “Why did the divine die? For the chaos?!”

He let out a wicked chuckle, “The “chaos” will empower me, and ensure we no longer beg at the feet of the invisible.” Corypheus cross over to her, grabbing her by her wrist and lifting her up high into the air. Another tortured scream escaped Ashlyn’s mouth as her recently injured shoulder popped out.

“I once breached the fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and connect the blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” He snarled, before throwing Ashlyn, hurling her through the air.

She landed with a thug against the heavy trebuchet. Noticing the glitter of an abandoned sword, she quickly grabbed it with her good hand before pointing it at Corypheus and the dragon, who were drawing closer.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation — and God — it requires.” The Elder one was still speaking, not noticing Ashlyn craning to see behind her.

That’s when she saw it, a single red spark flying through the sky. That was it — her signal.

He continued, “And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.” He clenched his long claws into a fist again as he moved closer to her.

Through gritted teeth, she spoke back with a new found fury. “You expect us to surrender and kneel. We. Will. Not. You will face us all. When we choose!” With a heavy kick, Ashlyn pushed the handle of the trebuchet. There was the clatter of chains as they began spinning around each other rapidly until the contraption was fired. The large stone soared through the air, hitting the highest peak of the mountain.

  
A triumphant smile spread across Ashlyn’s face as she turned back around. Without even glancing at Corypheus, she began sprinting — faster than ever before. Her boots scrambled to find purchase on the snow as she fled from him. She did not look back when she heard the loud swoosh of the dragon’s wings taking off. The sound of crashing avalanche grew louder in her ears as she ran until suddenly she felt nothing under her boots anymore. She was falling, everything around her was so dark it seemed like her eyes were closed. And then — _thud_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 11**

The inky sky was blank of stars, menacing clouds covering the usual white lights that could be seen from mountainside. The Inquisition had found safety in the ridges of the peaks, high in the sky. Moving with such a large group had been nerve-wracking, and exhausting — they had made several stops along the way, huddling around makeshift fires. Leliana and her scouts had raided concealed caches hidden along the mountainside filled with tents, blankets and food. Villagers, soldiers and scouts alike were building tents as quickly as possible to protect them from the howling storm that was impending.

Cullen wished he could be helping more. His instincts that had kicked in Haven had extinguished, leaving him completely burnt out. Large circles had developed under his eyes and his muscles were trembling. A sharp breath escaped him as a flash of spine-chilling images popped into his mind. Shaking his head, Cullen snapped himself back to reality as he saw someone approaching him. A bowl of porridge was offered to him by Cassandra, but he refused it. With a sigh, Cassandra passed the food over to another waiting soldier before returning to the Commander.

“Cullen, you need to eat.” She looked as exhausted as she did, smudges of dirt still covering her face.

“I don’t have an appetite.” He said grimly.

“Cullen…” Cassandra reached out to him, trying to grab his arm but he moved away from her touch.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking. You need to eat… and rest.” Her eyes were filled with concern, worry lines developing around her brows. “When is the last time you rested? Before the breach?”

“The last thing I could do right now is sleep. If I closed my eyes…,” Images that had haunted Cullen’s nightmares for years flashed in his mind — along with fresh memories, like Haven burning, the pools of blood that had collected on the white, crisp snow, the look in Ashlyn’s eyes as she volunteered herself. He had locked his jaw, gritting his teeth from the pain he was feeling.

Suddenly, there was a flash of green that filled the sky with a familiar light. Everyone’s eyes snapped to where it was coming from, murmurs and anxious whispers spread across the temporary camp.

Without hesitating, Cullen spoke. “It’s her.”

“What?!” Cassandra’s eyebrows furrowed together, staring at the Commander like he was a mad man.

“It’s Ashlyn.” He repeated, beginning to march towards the light.

“What are you doing? It’s pitch black, the storm will start any moment! You can’t go out there right now!” She called after him, attempting to follow him in the deep snow.

“It’s her, I know it. We have to find her.” His voice was desperate.

“Cullen… We have no idea that it is her.” Cassandra stuttered on the next words, “She—she was in an avalanche… Who could survive that?”

Cullen shook his head profusely. “She would. I will not let Ashlyn just become another one of my nightmares. She will not be another person I failed.” He said through gritted teeth.

Turning on his heel, he wrapped his cloak around him tighter, before grabbing a torch from a tent. He raised it up over his head, casting a small orange light just in front of him, before trudging towards where he had seen the green light flicker. The snow was deep, covering up past his calves. He could hear the crunch of footsteps behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see who was following.

It was Cassandra, and two other scouts. She gave him a solemn nod, before they ventured further into the ridge. Their breath was heavy as they marched through the snow.

Cullen was attempting to push the nightmarish images out of his mind as he trudged through the mountainside, his heavy boots leaving a makeshift path for the others to follow him in. He was pushing himself too hard now, he knew it. The migraine developing behind his eye was now ringing his ears. His heart was pounding in chest with sluggish beats. But he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop. They had to find Ashlyn — he had to find her. She would not become another nightmare.

As they passed between a narrow ridge, wind started whipping through the passage way with a howl. The glow of the torch casted its warm light onto a slumped figure.

Cullen’s voice ripped out of his throat, “There! She’s here!” He scrambled over to her, falling onto his knees and grabbing her into his arms.

Ashlyn was slumped over in the snow, her clothes completely damp and freezing. Her head was slugged forward, dark hair tangled in the wind.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra yelled from behind them.

Cupping her face, Cullen took a better look at Ashlyn. She was freezing, her features completely flushed a deep red from the cold. Her eyes were fluttering as she slipped in and out of consciousness. He scooped her into his arms, waking her up slightly. She clung onto the warmth of his body. With the help of Cassandra, they wrapped the bottom of Cullen’s fur cloak around Ashlyn, tucking her in to his arms safely. “Hold on Ashlyn,” He whispered, holding onto her more tightly as they began walking back though the path their boots had made.

Cassandra led the way, gripping the torch with clenched knuckles as she hurried them back to their makeshift camp along the mountainside. When they arrived, a group crowded around them curiously. “Please, make way for the Herald.” The Seeker announced, raising her hands in the air.

“The Herald?! She’s alive?” Someone gasped, and chatter exploded throughout the camp.

“Please, she need a healer’s attention. Let us through.” She demanded, pushing through the crowds. She lead them into a large, blue tent holding the folds up for them to enter before shutting them quickly for privacy.

Cullen stood in the middle of the tent, still clutching onto Ashlyn. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Put her here, Commander.” Adan directed. He was littered in bruises and looked completely exhausted, but he had insisted he was fine. He messily prepared a small cot, lining it with a blanket for Ashlyn.

Cullen crossed over to it, before gently placing her down. He stood up, looking to Adan for what to do next.

Adan placed the back of his hand on Ashlyn’s forehead, feeling for her temperature. “Maker… She could have froze to death. We need to warm her up. _Quickly_.” He emphasized.

Immediately Cassandra dove out of the tent, going to find more blankets. Cullen shrugged off his black cloak, placing it softly on top of Ashlyn. The cold breeze leaking into the tent meant that Cassandra had returned. She had a thick wool blanket bundled in her arms. “Will this do?” She asked.

Adan nodded, positioning the blankets and cloak over her a bit tighter. Stepping back he studied her for a moment, before moving to her feet. He began untying the laces of her boots.

“What are you doing?” Cullen asked confused.

“They’re soaking. Wet boots will stop her from warming up.” Adan said, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to untie the knots.

“Let me do that. Check to see if there is anything else wrong with her.” Cullen urged, swapping places with the healer. As his fingers pulled at the knots and fastenings of her boots, he realized that the trembling in his hands had subsided. Sliding her boots and stockings off, he placed them carefully on the side of her cot before covering her bare feet with the blanket. Ashlyn let out a shudder as he tucked them in.

The trio approached the top of her cot, checking up on her apprehensively. “Herald, are you ok?”

A groan escaped her lips, as she tried to shuffle under her blankets. “My shoulder…” She mumbled, grabbing onto her left arm with a grimace.

“Again?!” Adan demanded, pushing the blankets away slightly so he could examine the joint. “We’ll have to take your armour off. It’s dislocated.” He glanced up to Cassandra and Cullen, who were still hovering over Ashlyn worriedly. “Perhaps you two could give the Herald some privacy?” He suggested, raising his brow.

“Oh — of course.” Cullen’s face went hot, before he rushed out of the tent. Many faces whipped towards him as he exited, hopeful for answers. But the Commander ignored them, standing awkwardly and ringing his hands together. Cassandra emerged out of the tent a few moments later, her face serious.

“Adan has to reset her shoulder. But that’s it. I can’t believe she survived…” She muttered to herself, her arms crossed over her chest.

Suddenly, a wail echoed from the tent, causing the hairs on Cullen’s neck and arms to raise. Squeezing his eyes shut, the sound suddenly stopped.

“It sounds like Adan has it covered. I need… I need a moment.” Cassandra said wearily, before turning on her heel. Cullen watched her walk away, hovering in front of the tent’s entrance unsure of where to go. Shivering without his cloak, he wandered towards the bonfire crowded by the misplaced villagers and soldiers of Haven.

* * *

The villagers and soldiers had nervously packed themselves away in their tents, attempting to drown out the sounds of shouting that had erupted around the main fire of the campsite. A heated discussion had broke out amongst the Council, their voices ripping out of their throats in frustration.

“What would you have me tell them?! This isn’t what we asked them to do.” Cullen demanded, his nostrils flared and leather gloves creaking as his fists got tighter.

“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!” Cassandra stepped forward, her chin high.

“And who put you in charge?” He barked, “We need a consensus, or we have nothing!”

Josephine stepped in between the two of them, her small hands intwined anxiously in front of her. “Please, we must use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled…”

The Commander ignored the Ambassador’s suggestion, “They can’t come from nowhere!”

“She didn’t say it could.” She said quietly, intimidated at the volume of his voice. She looked to Leliana for support, but her back was turned to them — avoiding the confrontation.

“Enough!! This is getting us nowhere!” Cassandra finally screamed, slamming her fists into the makeshift chest-table they had created.

“Well, we’re agreed on that much!” Cullen snarled. Anger and exhaustion had completely immersed him, leaving him feeling frustrated and solitary. With a heavy sigh, he stalked over to the opposite side of the fire leaving the rest of the Council.

The others spread out separately and quietly. Josephine sat on a bench, holding her trembling hands over the fire. Leliana sat on the ground, drawing her knees up to her chest as she looked into the flames. Cassandra pretended to busy herself, looking at a damaged map spread across the make-shift chest table.

With the Council’s screaming match at an end, their ridge was left eerily quiet. The slight howl of the wind and flickering of embers is all that can be heard.

Cullen’s ambers eyes flickered to the blue tent they had left Ashlyn in, just as she emerged from it. Her hand was clutched around one of the tent’s pillars for support. She was wrapped up in Cullen’s cloak, its sleeves engulfing her arms. Small cuts and bruises littered her cheeks and brows, purple bags laid under her eyes. He wondered how many more times he would have to see Ashlyn in such a state. She scanned the area around them, before laying eyes on Cullen. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t take.

Before he could react, Mother Giselle emerged from out of the tent, joining Ashlyn’s side. The pair shared a meaningful look, before she opened her mouth and a melody came out. Her voice rang out through the clearing, echoing throughout the camp.

_Shadows fall_   
_And hope has fled_   
_Steel your heart_   
_The dawn will come_

_The night is long_  
 _And the path is dark_  
 _Look_ to _the sky_  
 _For one day soon_  
 _The dawn will come_

The Council looked up hesitantly, their eyes growing wide as they listened to her. Leliana immediately recognized the Chantry hymn, raising her purple hood off of her face and joining in. She sounded like a song bird.

_The shepherd's lost_   
_And his home is far_   
_Keep to the stars_   
_The dawn will come_

Soldiers, scouts and villagers emerged out of their tents, walking towards them curiously. More and more voices joined in, crowding around the fire and Ashlyn’s tent. Cullen watched them all pass, his eyes wide as he listened.

 _The night is long_  
 _And the path is dark_  
 _Look_ to _the sky_  
 _For one day soon_  
 _The dawn will come_

He furrowed his brows, trying to remember the words. It had been years since he had sung them. Hesitantly, he joined in. His voice croaked at first but then it smoothed out. He closed his eyes as he sang, his voice turning warm and buttery as he got comfortable.

_Bare your blade_   
_And raise it high_   
_Stand your ground_   
_The dawn will come_

_The night is long_  
 _And the path is dark_  
 _Look_ to _the sky_  
 _For one day soon_  
 _The dawn will come_

At the last few words he opened his eyes again, discovering that many villagers, sisters, scouts and soldiers had gathered around Ashlyn while singing — some of them were kneeling and bowing their heads in front of her. She was staring at them in shock.

“An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.” Mother Giselle said wisely, giving her a small smile. She squeezed her arm, before moving over to the villagers to check on them.

Before Cullen could even think of what he could say to Ashlyn, Solas had approached her. He cupped a pale hand around her ear, whispering to her, before the pair walked off together.

Cullen crossed his arms as Cassandra inched towards him, a somber look on her face. The two stared in silence, looking apologetic.

The mysterious rogue Cole came up to the Commander and Seeker cautiously. “The Chancellor… He is dead,” He said, his voice barely whisper.

Gulping, Cullen spoke first, “I’ll see to it.” He said gravely. Grabbing two other soldiers, he headed towards the healer’s tents.

Cassandra watched him walk away, her face filling with concern. Cole’s eyes shifted between the two of them, before he began speaking in an earnest, sober tone. “Burning quietly, anger filling him to the brim, drowning in its absence. Wanting to be needed, desired… But not like this.”

“Sorry?” Cassandra asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Cole’s face flushed, his foot kicking through the snow back and forth. “Nothing...” He muttered.

Cullen and the soldiers had carried Chancellor Roderick’s body to an underpass in the mountainside. The ground was too frozen to dig, so they began collecting stones and rocks to cover him. They stacked them until they formed a pyramid of stones — the silver and grey standing out against the white landscape.

Bending his knee, Cullen prayed in front of the rocks. He had loathed the Chancellor — he had made his life so difficult. He represented everything he hated about the Chantry and Cullen’s old life. But he had saved them. Lead Haven to safety. _Redemption_ — he thought. As he finished his prayer, he rose from the grave, staring at it a moment longer. He shivered in the wind, still without his cloak. Crossing his arms over his body to try to stay warm, he lead the soldiers back to the camp.

As soon as he has returned, he was waved over to a huddle of people. The Council and the Herald’s squad were gathered around the crumpled map of Thedas.

“We have a plan.” Cassandra smiled as he joined the group.

“We do?” He asked, brows furrowed.

Ashlyn stepped closer to the map, placing her fingers on it. “We think we are here,” she said circling the paper, “We need to head north if we want to get there.” Sliding her finger across, she pointed to a mountain peak.

“What’s there?”

She looked at him seriously, “Skyhold.”

“Skyhold?” Cullen was confused.

Solas jumped in, explaining. “The history of Skyhold is that it was once a place of Elvish ritual, before it was taken by the Fereldan kingdom as a keep. It has been used by many throughout the years — but I believe it to be empty.”

“What if it’s not there… or it’s already claimed? The Inquisition does not need anymore enemies.” Josephine squeaked.

Cassandra interjected, “Then we continue north-west to Emprise Du Lion.”

The Commander eyed everyone around him, who now seemed in agreement. “Alright. Are we investigating before we try to move an entire village of people?”

Ashlyn nodded, “Solas and I will scout ahead tomorrow morning. Once we know its safe we can swing back to rejoin the group.”

“Only the two of you? Surely you will bring a full squad?” Cassandra asked, looking worried.

“We will be fine.” She brushed off, before continuing to speak, “Everyone should rest. Either way — we will be traveling a lot tomorrow.”

Everybody returned to their respective tents, grabbing Ashlyn’s elbow or nodding at her as they passed. But Cullen remained, placing his hands wide on the table so he could investigate the map.

“Thank you.” She said to him, placing her hands on the opposite side of the table.

“Hmm?” Cullen asked, his caramel eyes leaving the map and flicking up to meet hers.

“For saving me.” Ashlyn looked at him through her thick lashes, “Cassandra told me that you insisted on searching for me. Thank you.”

“Oh, I— ”, He stammered, “Well, it’s what anyone would have done.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t discount yourself.” She reached across, placing her hand on top of his.

Cullen felt his stomach tighten at the feeling of her touch, his skin tingling where it met hers.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She slugged off the Commander’s fur cloak, sliding it down her arms before handing it over to him. “Thank you for lending it to me. I almost don’t want to give it back, it’s so nice.” She said cooly.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, watching her walk away from him as she went back into her tent. He pulled his cloak back on, flicking the collar up to his jawline. Cullen internalized a moan as he realized it now smelt like Ashlyn — her honey-like scent now clinging onto his cloak.

* * *

Ashlyn glanced over her shoulder once more, staring at the large group descending the snowy hilltops. They were lugging their boots through the snow, walking slowly to keep up their energy. Cullen and Leliana were leading the villagers and soldiers, their faces serious and eyes narrowed. Her squad was spread out across the villagers — helping them carry children and cargo. She gulped as she noticed her friends — they were disappointed when she had requested to scout Skyhold with only Solas. She didn’t want to hurt them, but she couldn’t handle any probing questions of concern. She just couldn’t answer any of those questions right now, and she knew that her and Solas would be able to walk in a comfortable silence.

With a final nod to the Council leaders, Ashlyn jogged to join Solas — they needed to make quick time. Linking her arm through his elbow, Solas squeezed onto his staff before fade stepping them away. They were a blur of blue, whipping upwards across the steep hill.

They hiked for over an hour in the vast snowy landscape. The sun was beginning to shine high in the sky, casting a warm glow onto them that helped fight off the chill.

“We should almost be there,” Solas said. He was using his staff as a walking stick, but with one hand he pointed to a steep narrow ridge.

Ashlyn’s boots scurried to find purchase on the hill, she slipped and slid a little. She struggled, as she had to rely on her good arm to push her back up. Eventually she made it to the top of the ridge, with Solas following close behind.

Her breath caught in her lungs as she saw what was over the pass. A gigantic fortress was revealed, it’s towers and bridges climbing high into the air, clouds twirling around them.

“Skyhold,” Solas let out, a rare smile stretching across his face.

Ashlyn’s mouth remained slightly open as they began descending towards it. Only tumbling on a few rocks, the pair made it down to the bridge leading into Skyhold within a few minutes. They stood warily in front of the main gate, it was made of steel and iron. It was built to keep people out.

“Well?” Ashlyn gulped, looking over to Solas. She was suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable, looking down at her two borrowed daggers. She has lost her onyx pair, leaving them behind in her fight with Corypheus. Even her beloved knife, that she would strap to her thigh was missing — most likely left behind in one of the corpse’s buried in the avalanche. Her armour was worn and tired — cuts and slices could be seen through the leather. And her only companion was a mage, a powerful one — but just the two of them was not enough. She prayed that no one laid behind that door.

“Wait!” Solas grabbed onto her elbow before she could touch the door. “Let me try something.” Gripping his staff harder, the elf closed his eyes softly. Suddenly, blue magic illuminated, casting an aura over him. Ashlyn could see Solas’ eyes working underneath his shiny lids, the skin twitching. Before suddenly, his eyes ripped open.

Rubbing his hands together, Solas placed them onto the cold stones of bridge — feeling them. “There is old magic… eleven magic soaked deep into this keep.” His eyes were filled with wonder, curiosity. “It’s acting as a shield, protecting our ritual lands from the wicked.”

“So… It’s safe?” Ashlyn asked, her eyebrows lifting softly.

“Yes. I cannot detect any other energies, just those of my ancestors.” Brushing himself off, Solas stood back up tall — his face turning serious once more. “Let us continue.”

They wandered into the keep, completely awestruck. It was vast, much larger than the village of Haven. It had fallen into disrepair — some pathways and stairs crumbling, trees fallen over from storms littered the courtyard. But the structure was there — it’s walls were high and well-built, it’s location on a peak would give the perfect advantage. Their guards fell down as they explored more of Skyhold, now that they were sure it was indeed empty.

“I think we’ve seen enough. This is exactly what the Inquisition needs to grow, to build.” Solas said confidently.

“We need an easier way for the Inquisition and villagers of Haven to get here though. It’s a miracle we were able to get here in one piece — those ridges are slick. Never mind hauling carts, carrying children — what about the horses and brontos.” Ashlyn countered, starting out across the bridge, searching for an opening in the mountainside. “There.” She squinted her eye while she pointed to where a dirt path suddenly came to an end.

The pair closed the main gate of Skyhold, before crossing the bridge and following the road. It lead to a tunnel that channeled directly through the mountainside. “The work of dwarves,” Solas announced, running his hands on the walls.

Peering through the tunnel, Ashlyn noticed that no light was trickling through. Marching through it, she found that the entrance to it was blocked by a boulder. “Dammit.” She spat, gritting her teeth. With her one good hand, she gave it a push — testing it’s weight.

“Don’t—” Solas stopped her, instead raising his staff. Again, gripping his staff with both hands he focused upon the boulder. It began vibrating, shaking the ground around them until suddenly a crack developed down the centre. With another shudder, it broke apart into pieces — turning into manageable stones.

Ashlyn stared at Solas, impressed. “Or you could do that.” The pair began rolling the stones and rocks out of the way, before the tunnel was completely clear. They stood there, admiring their work before she spoke up again, slightly out of breathe, “We will have to loop back to the group now. Let the Council take a look.”

They hiked through the tunnel, beginning their journey back to the displaced Inquisition that was travelling through the mountain tops.

* * *

Elbows resting on the rails of the rampart, Varric stared out into the mountain’s pass. “Well, I guess we know why it’s called Skyhold.” He said breathlessly, mesmerized by the view of the orange sun dipping below the horizon.

“Mhm,” Ashlyn said distractedly. She was leaning against the wall, her back facing away from the magnificent view. Her arms were crossed over her body lazily, her eyes glazed over as she pretended to listen to her companion.

“Freckles,” He grabbed onto her elbow, pulling her back into reality, “Are you okay?”

Blinking and widening her eyes, “Yeah. I’m just… exhausted. And terrified.”

Tugging on her arm, he pulled her over to the opposite side of the rampart. From this side, they could see into the courtyard of Skyhold. It was crowded, families were grouped together holding onto each other in relief. Soldiers were unloading their heavy armour, sitting on the patches of brown grass. Everyone was looking around them in awe, staring up at the turrets and battlements.

“You saved all those people…,” Varric pointed, “And brought them here.” A smile broke across his face as he pointed to their surroundings.

“This is all bigger than them. Corypheus…” Ashlyn trailed off as she felt her heart start to climb into her throat.

“Hey, one thing at a time, okay Freckles?” The pair leaned against the railing again, “When it was Hawke and us in Kirkwall… it was easy to get wrapped up in the anger and desperation. You just need to focus on the good. Find some joy.”

Ashlyn looked down into the crowd of people, looking at their faces. They were tired, but safe and content. She watched the grandmother and toddler she had saved in the Hinterlands — she was bouncing him on her knee, hugging him tightly as she spoke with another family. A scrawny recruit was being clapped on the back by a few of his comrades, a smile breaking across his face as they invited him to sit with them. Suddenly the Council emerged from the barracks, the trio chatting with each other excitedly. Ashlyn saw Josephine waving her arms around her energetically as she spoke. Leliana chuckled at her friends exuberance, while Cullen broke out into a smile. A dimple formed in Ashlyn’s cheek as she watched his expression.

“Find something you like?” Varric grinned, following her eyes to the blonde Commander.

“No.” She said a little too quickly. “It’s just good to see the Council on good terms again.”

“Right,” He winked, “Whatever you say.”

Ashlyn turned her face from his, attempting to hide the pink tinge on her checks.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

Chapter 12

It had been a few days since the Inquisition’s arrival in Skyhold. The courtyard was now bustling with people — soldiers moving to their new posts, staff preparing rooms for families and the Council welcoming new members to the Inquisition. Word had spread that the Inquisition was now settling in their new fortress, and volunteers had been arriving on their doorstep ever since. Merchants and contractors from Val Royeaux had been offering their services. Ashlyn had met them in the Capital, but had never believed that they would have actually offered their support. The contractors were working with some of the soldiers and Haven villagers to repair some of the crumbling walls and ramparts. While the merchants had brought supplies, filling the kitchens with exotic produce and barracks with blankets and clothes. 

Ashlyn had woken up early to help lay bricks on the southern wall in the Barracks, eager to keep her mind busy. The contractors and villagers were hard workers, but they had light conversations and told entertaining stories. Around noon, they all began wiping the dust off of their clothes and hands to get ready for lunch. 

She followed behind a group of soldiers, padding down the steps that lead out to the courtyard. The sun was high in the sky by now, drowning Skyhold in a bright yellow light. 

“Trevelyan!” 

Ashlyn’s ears perked as she heard her name. Cupping her hand around her eyes, she shielded them from the sun to find the voice. 

It was Cassandra, standing in between Josephine, Leliana and Cullen. She waved her over before nodding to the Council. As Ashlyn approached, the trio began to leave. The Commander couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the Herald, the slightest grin on his face before leaving them be. 

The pair stood together, watching as the front gate opened and a group of settlers began to trickle in. They were pulling carts with children, goods, food and materials. There was a buzzing chatter amongst them as the new families, soldiers and volunteers were escorted into the grounds. 

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region,” Cassandra beamed, pointing at the incoming crowd, “Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” 

She began walking up the courtyard stairs, ushering Ashlyn to follow. “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” The Seeker’s face was serious, her mouth a hard line. 

She paused for a moment, taking Ashlyn in. “But we know now what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”

Ashlyn’s eyes flickered to her hand, to the mark. It was glowing green, the light peaking out from her sleeves. “He came for this,” She said, raising her hand up in front of her face, “And now it’s useless to him… so he wants me dead. That’s it.” She grimaced. 

“The anchor has power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here.” Cassandra grabbed Ashlyn’s shoulder reassuringly. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature’s rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us.” With her hand still on Ashlyn’s shoulder, the Seeker led Ashlyn up the main stairs leading to the main staircase of Skyhold. At the top of the stairs, they stopped again. “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it.” 

Ashlyn furrowed her brows in confusion as Cassandra stepped to the side, revealing Leliana standing on the landing, holding out a shining, gold sword. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. The murmur of a crowd caused her to turn around. People were gathering in the courtyard, surrounding the stairs and landing that the trio was standing on. They were all watching her. In the crowd she noticed her companions standing with smirks on their faces, chins held up high. The rest of the Council also stood in the crowd — the Ambassador was beaming up at her, and the Commander was staring up at her, his eyes twinkling. 

“You.”

She met Cassandra’s eyes again,her own wide and looking bewildered. “It’s unanimous? You all have that much confidence in me?” 

Cassandra nodded, “All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow.” She said, sure of herself. 

Ashlyn blinked, “That wasn’t the question.”

“I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.” She waved her hand towards the sword that Leliana was still offering out. 

Ashlyn grabbed onto the handle of the sword, holding it in her hands hesitantly. She stared at it, thinking. This had all become much more than she had imagined. She had taken the contract at the Conclave, hoping for some easy gold. She had wanted to stand in the shadows — not to become a lady, or the Herald, and now a leader? But her mind was reeling with images of the people of Haven, her new-found friends. 

Finally, she opened her mouth. “Corypheus will never let us live in peace. He made that clear. He intends to be a god, to rule over all of us. Corypheus must be stopped. 

Cassandra smiled, bowing her head to Ashlyn. “Wherever you lead us.” She glanced at her new leader, who was holding the golden sword firmly in her hand. “Have our people been told?” She bellowed out into the watching crowd. 

Josephine pushed her chin up high, putting her shoulders back proudly. “They have! And soon the world.” She clutched her usual clipboard tightly to her chest, her excitement evident. 

“Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra bellowed, looking down at Cullen. 

He turned around to face the soldiers surrounding him, “Inquisition, will you follow?” He raised a gloved hand up to Ashlyn. 

“Yeah!” The crowd cheered loudly. 

“Will we fight?!” He boomed. Again, the crowd agreed — eagerness buzzing in the air. 

“Will we triumph?!” 

“Yeah!!!” 

With their final cheer, Cullen turned around to face Ashlyn now. His face broke out into a smile as he saw her amazed, wide-eyed reaction to the crowd. Grabbing his sword from its sheath, he raised it high into the air. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!” 

As the crowd cried and bolsters of excitement permeated Skyhold, their new Inquisitor matched the Commander’s gesture. She raised the golden sword high into the air, it’s rubies glittering in the sun. The crowd was staring up at her in awe — their new leader, the Inquisitor. But as they all stared up at her, Ashlyn only had eyes for one. She stared at him — a nervous smile breaking across her face.  
________________________________________________________________________

The doors to the throne room squeaked close, muffling the sounds of the courtyard outside. An early afternoon celebration had started. The Ambassador had organized for the kitchen staff to bring out some of the exotic, rich foods that merchants had brought from Val Royeaux — fresh fruits, cheese, and bottles of burgundy wine. The people of Skyhold were crowded around each other, eating and chatting excitedly about their new leader. The Council had snuck off into the throne room, using the people’s distraction to speak to their Inquisitor alone. 

They fell silent as they took the room in. It was in terrible shape — wooden beams, torn banners, and a chandelier laid on its side, with snapped candlesticks still sitting in the branches. Three stained glass windows were shining at the back of the room, the coloured glass casting a blue light in the room. Ashlyn eyed the throne, sitting directly under them. Her stomach did a backflip. 

“So this is where it begins…” Cullen mumbled, staring around him in awe.

Leliana replied, “It began in the courtyard. This is where we turn that promise into action.” 

“But what do we do?” Josephine asked hesitantly, “We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.” 

Ashlyn looked down at the green light on her palm. “Someone out there must know something about Corypheus. 

Sighing, Cullen shook his head, “Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he even exists.”

Spinning around to face the group, Leliana offered a suggestion. “We do have one advantage: we know what Corypheus intends to do next. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated.” 

Josephine’s eyes went wide, “Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army…” 

“An army he’ll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us.” Cullen furrowed his brows. The mood in the room began to turn. 

“Corypheus could conquer the entire South of Thedas, God or no God.” Josephine looked at Ashlyn, seeking reassurance. But the new Inquisitor hesitated, her mouth hanging open. 

Leliana sighed, “I’d feel better if we knew more about what we are dealing with.”

“I know someone who can help with that.” Varric waltzed into the throne room, waving his hands in front of him. He had slipped into the room unnoticed. “Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. She’s crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he’s doing. She can help.”

Ashlyn’s ear perked up, “I’m always looking for more allies. Introduce me.”

Varric looked around him nervously, “Parading around might cause a fuss. It’s better for you to meet privately… I’ll go to her first. Then you can meet on the battlements.” 

Leliana and Josephine shared a look. 

Varric raises his hands up defensively, “Trust me, it’s complicated.”

“Well then. We stand ready to move on both of these concerns.” Josephine stated, lifting her chin up. 

“On your order, Inquistor.” Cullen looked at Ashlyn, his lips curving up into a small smile. 

Leliana looked to the closed door, where the red-headed dwarf had just left, “I know one thing: if Varric has brought who I think he has, Cassandra is going to kill him.” 

Josephine let out a nervous laugh, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I think you’re quite right.” She stepped over a fallen rafter and skirted around the crashed chandelier. “I’ll be sending a crew into the Throne Room, to prepare it for you Inquisitor.” 

“Oh,” Ashlyn felt her cheeks go hot, “That’s not necessary — no thrones.” 

The Ambassador blinked at her, “You’ll have to have a throne… for judgments and meetings. It’s the traditional place of power!” 

“And it’s not for me. The throne can be… symbolic. But this room should be for Skyhold — put tables and chairs. I don’t know, but I’m not sitting on that thing.” A frown formed on her face as she pointed at the ornate, red chair sitting at the back of the room. 

“But —,” Josephine stammered before Leliana looped her arm into the Ambassadors. 

“Let her be Josie. Come, show me your plans for the library.” She began dragging her into the other room, pointing out to the fraying wallpapers. 

Ashlyn stood in the centre of the room, a lump forming in her throat. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

An awkward clearing of a throat reminded her that she was not alone. 

“How are you feeling?” Cullen asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead. 

She twisted around to face him, hesitating once she had met his amber eyes. “I, I—”

A voice called for them from another hallway, interrupting her train of thought. “Inquisitor, Commander! You must come see the library — there are so many books!” Josephine called to them, her voice gleeful and echoing in the next tower. 

Another sigh left Ashlyn, she couldn’t help it. 

Cullen let out a quiet chuckle, “We should head upstairs, the Ambassador is in her element — we shouldn’t deny her.” 

They wander towards the next room, squeezing through the door frame at the same time. “Can I come find you later?” Ashlyn asks, gently grabbing onto Cullen’s arm before he heads up the stairs. 

He froze at her touch, looking down at her hand on his bicep. “I — of course,” He stammered, “I’ll be out on the grounds with my recruits.” 

She nodded at him, before sneaking past him on the grand staircase, her honey-like scent filling his nose as she passed by. 

Cullen took a moment to himself, one foot still on the bottom step. Blinking himself back to reality, he shook his head at his own thoughts before jogging up the creaking steps to join the others.  
________________________________________________________________________

Hovering over the desk, the Commander stared down at the parchments and maps rolled out over the wood. He was supposed to be routing search parties and deciding how many soldiers he could part with until the repairs on Skyhold were complete. But instead he was having trouble reading — he had reread the same sentence over and over, not taking any of Josephine’s neat list in. His mind was distracted, and had been since the Council entered the throne room earlier that day. 

He was awestruck by their new Inquisitor, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He didn’t know how she did it. She was so calm, yet stubborn; strong but gracious. She seemed so sure of herself — grabbing onto his arm so easily. Could she tell that it made his skin tingle — her touch electric on him? As Josephine had toured them around the library, he found himself mesmerized by Ashlyn — how she tilted her head to read the titles of the old books, her skinny fingers running along their bindings and spines, how she tucked her hair behind her ear. He swears Leliana noticed him watching her, as she had giggled slightly as she passed him. Cullen had immediately made an excuse for himself, and left for the battlements to rejoin his men. 

Furrowing his brows, Cullen bit down on his cheek hard. Stop it. He thought to himself. She was the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor. He was the Commander. He needed to stop indulging in his fantasy, and focus on their very real reality. No one wanted a tormented ex-templar — especially when the end of the world was looming around them. 

Two of his soldiers approached his desk, saluting him before tucking their hands behind their backs. “Scouting parties have been established Commander. We await your order.” 

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he realized in his distraction he did not select a locale to scout. Spinning the map around to face his men, he pointed to the mountain ranges leading into Emprise du Lion. 

“Send men to scout the area! We need to know what’s out there.” He commanded easily. 

“Yes ser!” The man saluted Cullen, before marching off. 

The second soldier stepped forward to provide his update, “Commander. All soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.” 

Cullen nodded, eyeing the barracks behind him. “Very good. I’ll need an update on the armory as well.” He requested, shuffling the papers in front of him. When he didn’t hear any footsteps, he looked up at the soldier still standing there. “Now!” Shaking his head, he returned back to his desk — determined to actually take in the information on the scrolls. 

But the crunching sound of steps approaching, caused him to turn. 

It was Ashlyn, her arms crossed over her torso as she approached him. Cullen remembered her request to speak with him, but he had doubted that it was genuine. He was surprised to see her. 

“You look busy.” She commented, thumbing through the scrolls scattered over his desk. “Defence tactics already? Would Corypheus even know we are here yet?” She asked, eyeing the diagrams of Skyhold and formation plans that Cullen had drawn up. 

“We need to be more prepared,” Cullen explained, “We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon — or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have…” He attempts to block the nightmarish flashbacks that pop into his mind at the mention of Haven. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. 

Ashlyn watches him, “Do you ever sleep?” She asked, raising her eyebrows humorously. 

He smirked at her, but ignored the question. “If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw… and I wouldn’t want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here.” His tone was serious — he was determined. 

They stared around them, taking Skyhold in before Ashlyn spoke again. “How many were lost…?” She asked hesitantly, eyeing the medical tents that Adan had set up next to the battlements. 

Cullen chewed his cheek, “Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse.” He looked over to his off-duty soldiers, relaxing next to the bonfire chatting excitedly. “Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.” He said with a smile. 

She pursed her lips, “Inquisitor Trevelyan.” She enunciated her name, making it sound strange. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it?” 

“Not at all.” Cullen did not miss a beat.

She looked at him with wide eyes, “Is that the official response?” 

He let out a chuckle,”I suppose it is. But it is the truth. We needed a leader: you have proven yourself.” He said seriously.

Her eyes turn to the ground, “I wasn’t looking for another title…”

“Most don’t. I was shocked when Cassandra approached me to be Commander of the Inquisitor. Or what of the King of Ferelden, Alistair Therin. He couldn’t get away from the crown fast enough.” 

Her grey eyes flashed up to meet his - they were filled with worry. “Everyone has so much faith in my leadership. I hope I am ready.” He noticed the hump in her throat take a hard swallow. 

“You won’t have to carry the Inquisition alone,” He offered, spreading the edges of his mouth into a smile, “Although it may feel like it.” 

She returned his smile, her white teeth revealed in her sincere beam. “Thank you, Cullen.” 

They hold each other’s eyes for a moment, before Ashlyn opened her mouth to speak again. 

“Our escape from Haven… it was close.” She broke his eye contact again, staring down at a loose strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. “I am relieved that you,” She fumbled over her words, “That so many made it out.”

“As am I.” Cullen replied, thinking about her correction of words. 

Her body language shifted, and she began to look around awkwardly. Licking her lips, she started to shuffle away. 

Without thinking, Cullen reaches out and grabs onto her elbow softly. Waves are sent through him as she stops at his touch, turning around to meet his face. “You stayed behind. You could have…,” He didn’t say the words, not daring to think of what could have been. “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.” 

“And mine.” She nods, her lips parting slightly. Cullen realized that he was still holding onto her elbow, and moved his hand quickly back down to his side. “Well, I think that would make us even wouldn’t it? I stay behind for the Inquisition, and you wander into a storm to save me.” 

Cullen let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Sure. I hope it won’t have to come to something like that again. I don’t like seeing you like that.” He eyed the ground, slightly embarrassed. 

“I do have a tendency of almost dying. A lot.” She grimaced, unconsciously rubbing her half-healed side. “I’ll work on it.” She said coolly. 

“Good,” Cullen smirked. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” She pointed at the mound of papers on his desk. 

His eyes betrayed him, showing his disappointment at her departure. 

“I’ll be around.” She smiled, “I can’t go running away now, I’m the Inquisitor you know.” One of her grey eyes winked, sending waves in the Commander’s stomach. 

Cullen watched her walked away, noticing the sway of her hips and hair. With a gulp he returned his eyes to his crowded desk, rummaging through the papers to distract himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlyn Trevelyan has been running from her past and family for years. But suddenly she finds herself in the middle of the fight of her life. Will dragons, templars and charming commanders prove to be too much for her? (Disclaimer: Characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware & EA.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

**Chapter 13**

Silver clouds swirled around the tower attached to the battlements, matching the day's dreary sky. The structure had a perfect view of the bridge leading to Skyhold's main gate. Josephine had recommended Cullen use the tower due to its strategic position within their keep.

The tower was still in disrepair, broken pillars were held up with sandbags and a large chunk of the ceiling had been blasted away in a battle long before the Inquisition had arrived. But it had magnificent windows throughout the room, that did prove to be strategically defensive but it also offered an incredible view of the mountainside. The tower was tucked away just enough, allowing the Commander some privacy and time away from the main battlements and castle.

A tired and worn desk sat in the middle of the room, in desperate need of restoration. Blackwall had volunteered to restore the desk — stating that woodworking had always been something he found solace in. Bare bookshelves covered one of the walls, with thick, untouched dust sitting on the ledges. A ladder led up to the attic of the tower, which Cullen intended to use as his bedroom. The Ambassador had made a fuss, insisting that the Commander needed something much grander. After bickering back and forth, Josephine finally let up but only after Cullen agreed that he would not sleep in the attic until the repairs in his tower had been completed.

Once the repairs were done on the tower, Cullen was looking forward to having his own space again. Giving up his cabin for Ashlyn had been worth it, but sharing a room with two women had been taxing. There were a few books he saw in the library that he wanted to place on the shelves, and Josephine instead on choosing linens for his bed in the attic. It seemed that finally, the Commander could have a space of his own.

The Commander was leaning against one of the window sills, staring out into the courtyards and ramparts in his view. A light breeze caused his curls to blow slightly. Closing his eyes, Cullen breathed in deeply — the mountain air crisp and fresh in his nose.

Opening his eyes, a flicker of movement across the battlements grabbed his attention. Ashlyn had walked out onto a rampart, her long hair flickering in the wind. She wrapped her arms around herself, tugging at the sleeves of her cream shirt. Cullen gulped, guiltily taking the Inquisitor in from afar. Even in her neutral clothes across the battlements, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. His eyebrows furrowed with concern as he watched her shiver, the wind was much more bitter up in Skyhold. He wondered where her green scarf was as he watched her scan the courtyard below.

Ashlyn perked up as the tower door behind her opened, and two figures joined her. Varric shuffled over to her, the two exchanging words before the dwarf waved over the second person. He watched as the Champion of Kirkwall greeted Ashlyn, they were smiling at each other. Cullen's knuckles turned white as he clenched onto the window sill, his teeth clamping down on each other. A familiar pounding began in his chest, his heart accelerating. He could feel it climbing up his throat; the beats echoing in his ears.

It wasn't Hawke who caused this reaction — just what she reminded him of. She had become the face of Kirkwall, and there was no one else who reminded him of the events there more. The Champion looked the same as that final day in the city — before the Chantry. She wore her blonde hair in a long braid that was thrown over her shoulder, and he could see the red birthmark that ran across her face from up in the tower. Her muscular arms were placed on her hips, her stance wide with her feet apart — a true warrior's pose.

The last time Cullen had seen her was after Meredith's defeat. The Templars had surrounded the Champion and her companions, awaiting their Knight-Captain's orders — but he had refused, lowering his sword and shield, allowing them to escape. He was left with the Order in shambles, Meredith's disfigured corpse and the familiar intensity he had felt before, during the attacks at the Circle Tower.

Whipping around, Cullen turned away from the window and began pacing in his tower. He tried to control his breathing, but it was becoming more and more difficult. He hadn't felt like this when he saw Varric — he wasn't pleased when Cassandra informed him of the dwarf's recruitment to the cause, but it hadn't caused such a visceral reaction as seeing Hawke did. Now, he could taste bile forming in his mouth, his palms sweating as he thought of her being in Skyhold — the chaos that always came with her was in their walls.

He glanced at the carved wooden box that sat on one of the dusty shelves in the bookcase in the corner. Moving towards it, he played with the hinges, temptation drawing him in. He swallowed, thinking about the relief his lyrium kit would give him in these moments. It would make him feel numb — and after feeling so much in so little time it was a seductive idea. Shaking his head, Cullen stalked away from the bookshelf — holding his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking.

"No. No." He muttered to himself, attempting to force the thoughts out of his mind — the feeling of lyrium hitting his veins, the tortured screams of his comrades in the Tower, the red blast that destroyed the world as he knew it, the look of disgust on Meredith's face when he refused to fight. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting in pain as he forced the images out of his head.

"No!" He said finally, slamming his fist on his wooden desk. His breath was ragged, exhausted from his internal battle. He had promised himself to the Inquisition, he told Cassandra he would be strong enough to not take it. "I am no longer a Templar. I am not my past." He repeated to himself.

Leaning out the window looking out into the mountains, Cullen spat out into the open air — attempting to get the awful taste out of his mouth. He gulped in some of the fresh air, feeling the thudding in his chest falling back to a normal pace.

The Commander knew he had to be better — stronger, more in control. Cassandra, his men, the entire Inquisition was depending on him. He could get so wrapped up in his head, trapped in his memories, suffocating in the horrors of his past. He dared a glance out of the window, tempting another look at the trio that had caused his eruption. But they were gone.

Cullen's eyebrows furrowed, looking for them down in the courtyard. He wondered what Ashlyn thought of Hawke if they discussed her experience at Kirkwall. His eyes widened as he thought of what Ashlyn knew of the Champion's past — or better yet, what she didn't know.

Bursting out of his tower's door, Cullen leaned over the rampart's edge searching for the Inquisitor in the courtyard below. Pushing himself back up, he began jogging across the overpass before turning onto the stairs. He was taking them almost two at a time — his leather boots pounding against the twisting steps. His eyes were darting around him, searching for Ashlyn amongst the crowd of soldiers, villagers, and merchants.

As his feet hit the dry grass of the courtyard, he saw her. She had changed into her armour, tugging on the chest piece over her head as she spoke with Dennet.

"Ashlyn!" Cullen huffed — after his bout in his tower, and running across the ramparts he suddenly found himself out of breath. The pair immediately stopped their conversation, taken aback at their Commander running towards them. Cullen stopped just in front of them, leaning up against one of the columns supporting the horses' stable trying to catch his breath.

"Cullen, what's wrong?" Ashlyn gasped, reaching out to him. She grabbed onto his arm, peering at his face. He was pale, his face drained of any colour except for the purple circles laying under his eyes. He looked feverish, sweat beading off of his forehead.

"I, uh—", His amber eyes flicked over to Dennet, who was watching them curiously. "I need to talk to you."

"About the mission?" They moved away from the stables, moving away from Dennet and around the corner. "I debriefed Leliana, it should be no more than two days time."

Cullen furrowed his brow in confusion, "What mission?"

"Hawke has an in on the location of a Grey Warden. We are going to investigate their disappearance and see what it has to do with Corypheus."

"Hawke," He blinked at the name, "That's what I have to talk to you about."

"Ok, make it quick. The horses are getting restless." She gestured to the horses that Dennet had led out in front of the gate. They were shaking their manes and stepping on the spot in excitement.

"I, uh —" Cullen stumbled over his words, unsure of how to say it. "Do you know anything about Hawke's involvement in Kirkwall?"

"Well, she's the Champion of Kirkwall. Her story is known throughout Thedas."

"I, no — that's not what I meant. Kirkwall's chantry…" He hesitated, "What happened to your brothers?"

Ashlyn's face dropped. "Oh."

"I wasn't sure if you'd know, and I —" But she cut him off.

"It's ok. Tell me later." She said harshly.

He was taken aback, "But—"

"Cullen, it's ok. Tell me when I get back. We need to get to the camp before nightfall."

His face fell, "I just didn't want you to think I was hiding it from you. Like before…"

"I know. I trust you, Cullen." She grabbed onto his arm softly. "And Ashlyn wants nothing more then to hear about it. But I have to be the Inquisitor right now." She grimaced slightly.

Cullen nodded, swallowing hard.

"I will come and find you as soon as I am back." She moved her face under his, trying to look up into his eyes. "Hey, try and rest ok. Tell your men their labor is needed on repairs, and take one day to yourself. You can do that right?"

He finally let his eyes meet hers again. "I can try."

"Do it, Commander. That's an order." She had a slight twinkle in her eye, before turning on her heel.

"Safe travels." He murmured, watching her swing her leg up onto her horse. She had her usual party with her, with Varric and Hawke sitting up front chatting with each other. Cullen stared at the Champion for a moment, a lump in his throat rising.

She must have felt someone watching, as she suddenly turned to scan around her. Hawke's eyes met with Cullen's and they stared at each other for a moment. She gave him a serious nod before turning to see if the party was ready to go.

Guards began to open up the gate for the horses to make their way through. Ashlyn lingered behind for a moment, looking over her shoulder at Cullen one more time before gently digging her heels into her horse and catching up with the others.

* * *

The Commander followed his orders.

The next morning in the barracks, Cullen assigned his men to different repairs throughout Skyhold and told them to report to his Lieutenant for the day. There were some confused murmurs in the room, but his Lieutenant quickly took control of them and let him go free without further questions.

The day was still very early. Usually, only his men and some of the cooks were up at this time. The sky was a pink-orange as the sun slowly began to rise over the mountain tops. Cullen had forgone has armor, instead wearing thick pants with leather boots and his usual fur cloak.

He stepped out into the courtyard, unsure of what to do with his new found freedom. It had been months since he wasn't staring at battle plans or requisitions. His eyebrows furrowed as he wandered through the grass, hearing cursing and crashing from just behind the small training rings the recruits had installed.

Approaching warily, he found himself staring at Cassandra wailing on a practice dummy. Her eyes were piercing, her hair slicked back out of her face as she concentrated. She gritted her teeth, speaking through them, "Lying, scheming bastardly coward!"

Cullen coughed to announce himself to her. She whipped around, eyeing him before turning back to slash the dummy.

"And who is that supposed to be?" He asked.

"Varric." She grunted, her breath heavy.

Oh." His amber eyes widened. "Because of Hawke?"

She stopped fighting, her shoulders limping as her sword dangled in her hand. "Yes."

He gave her a knowing look, "Cassandra..."

"He knew where she was," Her nostrils flared with anger. "The entire time. My entire investigation was a waste of time."

"He was protecting his friend." Even Cullen was surprised by his answer. He was a man of rules and regulations, not the word of friends and promises. But he had come to understand where Varric was coming from.

"I was trying to protect the world." She snarled, ignoring Cullen's comment. "We needed a leader — someone like Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden..."

The Commander shook his head a little, a sad smile on his face as he watched his comrade. "I think she is a little preoccupied being the Queen."

Cassandra spat onto the grass near the dummy, "We needed someone experienced, a recognizable face..."

Cullen interrupted her, "They couldn't have done it. Even if they did want to. Where would we be now? What of the conclave? The breach? Ashlyn?" He stumbled a little on the Inquisitor's name.

The Seeker swallowed hard, she met his eyes. "I know, you're right. But I'm still furious!" She slammed the tip of her sword into the ground, leaving it there as she wandered over to lean against the fence of the training ring.

She looked at Cullen, finally noticing that he wasn't in his armor, and the purple circles under his eyes. "How are you doing with Hawke being here?"

"It —," He hesitated. He didn't want to appear weak, but Cassandra already knew so much of his past, of his struggles. "It has brought up some memories. Not all good I'm afraid. Actually, most were extremely unpleasant."

He moved next to her on the railing, his bare fingers tightening around one of the posts as he spoke nervously. "I was almost tempted into past habits."

Cassandra snapped her face toward him, "Did you use?"

"No!" He sputtered, slightly offended by the accusation. But if anyone understood the appeal and seduction that lyrium held over him it was her. He reminded himself she had good intentions asking such things.

"Good." She gave him a stern nod, but her eyes softened with his answer.

He gulped at their silence, not wanting to delve into the Hawke or lyrium discussion any further. "So now what?"

She rubbed her face, "Well, Leliana reported that Hawke's contact should be reliable. Hopefully, they will provide useful information about Corypheus and any of his allies."

"Then we will continue to grow. Expand our army, allies, resources." Cullen said purposefully.

"That is not such an easy feat." Her face was serious, her mouth forming a hard line.

"It is not," Cullen agreed, "But I trust in us, in Ashlyn."

Cassandra noticed the way the Commander kept saying the Inquisitor's name, the smallest flicker in his eye when she was mentioned. She let her lips curve up slightly, "Me too."

* * *

Ashlyn's tired eyes tried to focus on the map in front of her. She was blinking frequently, listening as Cassandra yelled at her.

"And just leaving Skyhold, on the words of someone you barely know? It could have been a trap, a ploy! You are too valuable."

"I know Cassandra." Ashlyn muttered.

"No, I don't think you do. You are the Inquisitor, you need to act like it!" The Seeker put her hands down to cover the map that Ashlyn has been absently staring at, grabbing her attention.

"Cassandra!" Leliana hissed.

The Council has gathered in the front hall of Skyhold, surrounding a small wooden table until the repairs in the war room were complete. Josephine had done what she could, but they were still standing near piles of stone and broken chandeliers.

Ashlyn put her hands down on the edge of the table, lowering herself so that her eyes met with Cassandra's. "I was acting like an Inquisitor when I decided to follow the lead to find out more about our enemy. Which proved to be pretty valuable information by the way." Her grey eyes were unwavering.

Still, Cassandra countered, "You can't just run off like you use to. We have agents and a council. At the bare minimum, you could debrief us before —"

"I told Leliana," Ashlyn said simply.

"Leliana is not the entire council!" The Seeker flashed their Spymaster a look.

"And I am not the entire Inquisition! I didn't ask for this you know?! But I made do, and I did what I had to." Ashlyn's eyes had turned to ice. "I'm sorry Hawke being here pisses you off but she is valuable and needed. You need to figure out your priorities — your feelings or beating Corypheus. I did." She said poignantly.

The room was silent. Cullen stared at Ashlyn with his mouth slightly agape.

"She's right Cassandra," Josephine said politely.

Cassandra's nostrils flared, but she nodded in agreement.

"I think we will continue the mission debriefing tomorrow morning? I suggest we all use some time to cool off." She said, flashing another look at Cassandra.

"Great idea Josie," Leliana said, linking her arm through Josephine's before they walked off together. They hesitated at the main door, turning back to look in the room, "Cassandra, come."

Cassandra glanced at them, before staring at Ashlyn with low eyes. Slightly embarrassed, she slumped past the Commander and Inquisitor before leaving with Leliana and Josephine.

The sound of the main door shutting signaled to Ashlyn and Cullen they were now alone. They stood on opposite ends of the war table, staring in a stunned silence.

"I'm sorry she reacted like that. I did speak to her yesterday, I thought she would have been more collected..." Cullen trailed off. He was as confused by the Seeker's behavior towards Ashlyn today.

"I expected it," Ashlyn shrugged, "Varric told me about her interrogating him for Hawke's Location. I just thought she would see the bigger picture."

Cullen nodded, "She does, she's just stubborn." He stepped around the edge of the table, walking closer to her. "How are you though? You must be tired?"

"Very. We didn't rest much, but like I said before it was worth it. What about you? Did you rest as I asked you to?" A small smile played on her lips.

Cullen intertwined his hands behind his back, "I took a day to myself, yes."

"You did?!" She asked, sounding surprised.

"I know how to follow orders, Inquisitor." He said with a smirk.

"Good to know." She said devishly, turning in her heel and walking through the arch leading towards the library. Cullen followed her as she continued to speak, "So what did you, other than try and talk Cassandra down?"

"I read actually." He smiled, thinking back at his day off.

"What did you read?"

He looked at her slightly confused, wondering if she had forgotten already. "The Adventurer's Journal, of course."

"It made its way out of Haven?!" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Well, it was actually in my cloak pocket when the Red Templar's attacked." He blushed, embarrassed that he was admitting that he had kept her present so close to him all this time.

"That's lucky. I'm glad you got some of your things then." She smiled, but it faltered slightly. Cullen noticed.

"A lot of your belongings were lost in Haven?"

A sad look crossed her face, "Yes. A lot of my stuff would still be in the cabin. My knife is probably long buried in the snow, same with my scarf. That's ok. They are just... things."

He noticed the sad look on her face, and his eyes followed to her fingers that were absently rubbing the empty holster on her thigh.

The pair kept walking finding themselves on the ramparts leading up to his office and room. Ashlyn leaned forward on the wall, looking out at the view as she broke the silence. "So you said, you needed to tell me something about Hawke? And my brothers?"

Cullen gulped. He had wondered when she would bring it up. He did want to tell her — he did not want her to feel he was keeping things from her. But still, he struggled with recounting the events of Kirkwall. What if she asked for more? He bit his lip, before speaking, "Did Hawke mention Anders to you at all?"


End file.
